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possibia  considaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  spacificatiens. 


Original  copi'ts  in  printad  papar  covars  ara  filmad 
beginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impras* 
sion.  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copias  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impras- 
sion.  and  anding  on  tha  last  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illuatratad  imprassion. 


Tha  last  racordad  frama  on  aach  microficha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  — <»>  (maaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  V  (maaning  "END"). 
whichovcr  appliaa. 

Maps,  platas,  charts,  ate.  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  reduction  ratios.  Thosa  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraly  included  in  one  exposure  ara  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Las  imagas  suivantas  ont  hii  raproduitas  avac  i« 
plus  grand  soin.  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  naneti  da  I'exempiaire  film^,  et  en 
conformity  avac  las  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmaga. 

Las  axemplairas  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim*e  sont  filmAs  en  commencant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soil  par  la 
derniAra  paga  qui  comporta  une  empreinte 
d'imprassion  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  la  second 
plat,  salon  la  cas.  Tous  las  autras  axemplairas 
originaux  sont  filmte  an  commandant  par  la 
premiere  paga  qui  comporta  una  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  at  an  terminant  par 
la  darniAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  telle 
amprainta. 

Un  das  symbolaa  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
darniire  image  da  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  la  symbols  — ^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE '.  la 
symbola  V  signifia  "FIN". 

Let  cartaa.  planches,  tableaux,  etc..  pauvant  atre 
fitmis  i  das  taux  da  reduction  diff Grants. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  etra 
raproduit  en  un  saul  clichA.  il  est  filmA  d  partir 
da  Tangle  supirieur  gauche,  de  gauche  i  droite, 
at  da  haut  an  bas.  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imagaa  n*cessaira.  Lea  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  iv.iithoda. 


1 


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MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  ana  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


■^  IIIIIM 

1 3.2 


1^ 

Li: 


13.6 


4.0 


1.4 


2.5 


2.2 


2.0 


1.8 


1.6 


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•''•♦fii^j?!?!:::!^**!!!^!!*^?!'*''^ 


MAPvCELLA 


VOL.  II. 


m». 


j^^mk 


MAliCELLA 


BY 


Mils.    IIUMl'HRY   WAIil) 


IN  TWO   VOLUMES 


VOL.   H. 


MACMILLAN    AND    CO. 

AND    LONDON 

^Toronto 

THE  TORONTO  NEWS  COMPANY,  LLMITED 

1894 


■^11  rights  reserved 


PR  571  If 


Copyright,  1894, 
By  MACMILLAJf  AND  CO 


M 


J.  S.  Cushingr  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith. 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


BOOK     II.    {continued). 


I' 


i 


MARCELLA. 


CHAPTER   XI r. 


Nearly  three  weeks  passed  —  short  flashing  weeks, 
crowded  with  agitations,  inward  or  outward,  for  all 
the  persons  of  this  story. 

After  the  in(pnry  before  the  magistrates  —  con- 
ducted, as  she  passionately  thought,  with  the  most 
marked  animus  on  tlie  part  of  the  bench  and  police 
towards  the  prisoners  —  had  resulted  in  tlie  committal 
for  trial  of  Hurd  and  his  five  comjianions,  Marcella 
wrote  Aldous  Eaeburn  a  letter  which  hurt  him  sorely. 
"Don't  come  over  to  see  me  for  a  little  while,"  it 
ran.     "My  mind  is  all  giv^en  over  to  feelings  which 

must  seem  to  you  — which,  I  know,  do  seem  to  you 

unreasonable  and  unjust.  Fiut  they  are  my  life,  and 
when  they  are  criticised,  or  even  treated  coldly,  I  can- 
not bear  it.  When  you  are  not  there  to  argue  with,  I 
can  believe,  most  sincerely,  that  you  have  a  right  to 
see  this  matter  as  you  do,  and  that  it  is  monstrous  of 
me  to  expect  you  to  yield  to  me  entirely  in  a  thing 
that  concerns  your  sense  of  public  duty.  But  don't 
come  now  — not  before  the  trial.  I  will  appeal  to  you 
if  I  think  you  can  help  me.     I  know  you  will  if  you 

VOL.    II.  —  1  1 


i" 


MARCELLA. 


can.  Mr.  Wharton  keeps  me  informed  of  everything. 
I  enclose  his  last  two  letters,  which  will  show  you  the 
line  he  means  to  take  up  with  regard  to  som.e  of  the 
evidence." 

Aldous's  reply  cost  him  a  prodigal  amount  of  pain 
and  difficulty. 

"  I  will  do  anything  in  the  world  to  make  these  days 
less  of  a  burden  to  you.  You  can  hardly  imagine  that 
it  is  not  grievous  to  me  to  think  of  any  trouble  of 
yours  as  being  made  worse  by  my  being  with  you. 
But  still  I  understand.  One  thing  only  I  ask  —  that 
you  should  not  imagine  the  difference  between  us 
greater  than  it  is.  The  two  letters  you  enclose  have 
given  me  much  to  ponder.  If  only  the  course  of  the 
trial  enables  me  with  an  honest  heart  to  throw  myself 
into  your  crusade  of  mercy,  with  what  joy  shall  I  come 
and  ask  you  to  lead  me,  and  to  forgive  my  own  slower 
sense  and  pity ! 

"I  should  like  you  to  know  that  Hallin  is  very  much 
inclined  to  agree  with  you,  to  think  that  the  whole 
affair  was  a  <  scrimmage,'  and  that  Hurd  at  least 
ought  to  be  reprieved.  He  would  have  come  to  talk 
it  over  with  you  himself,  but  that  Clarke  forbids  him 
anything  that  interests  or  excites  him  for  the  present. 
He  has  been  very  ill  and  suffering  for  the  last  fort- 
night, and,  as  you  know,  when  these  attacks  come  on 
we  try  to  keep  everything  from  him  that  could  pain  or 
agitato  him.  But  I  see  that  this  whole  affair  is  very 
mncli  on  his  mind,  in  spite  of  my  efforts. 

"...  Oh,  my  dai-ling !  I  am  writing  late  at  night, 
with  your  letter  open  before  me  and  your  picture  close 
to  my  hand.     So  many  things  rise  in  my  mind  to  say 


MABCELLA. 


verything. 
iw  yoii  the 
me  of  the 

it  of  pain 

these  days 
agine  that 
trouble  of 
with  you. 
isk  —  that 
3tween  us 
ilose  have 
pse  of  the 
Dw  myself 
all  I  come 
wn  slower 

^ery  much 
:he  whole 
.  at  least 
le  to  talk 
I'bids  him 
e  present, 
last  fort- 
come  on 
Id  pain  or 
ir  is  very 

at  night, 
ture  close 
id  to  sav 


\ 


to  you.  There  will  come  a  time  — there  must ! —  vrhf^n 
I  may  pour  them  all  out.  Meanwhile,  amid  all  jars 
and  frets,  remembei  this,  that  I  have  loved  you  better 
each  day  since  first  we  met. 

''I  will  not  come  to  Mellor  then  for  a  little  while 
My  election,  little  heart  as  I  have  for  it,  will  fill  up 
the  week.  The  nomination-day  is  fixed  for  Thursday 
and  the  polling  for  Monday." 

Marcella  read  the  letter  with  a  confusion  of  feelin- 
so  great  as  to  be  in  itself  monstrous  and  demoralising 
Was  she  never  to  be  simple,  to  see  her  way  clearly 
again  ?  j  j 

As  for  him,  as  he  rode  about  the  lanes  and  beech- 
woods  m  the  days  that  followed,  alone  often  with  that 
nature  for  which  all  such  temperaments  as  Aldous 
Raeburn's  have  so  secret  and  so  observant  an  affec- 
tion, he  was  perpetually  occupied  with  this  difficulty 
which  had  arisen  between  Marcella  and  himself,  turn- 
ing It  over  and  over  in  the  quiet  of  the  morning 
Ijefore  the  turmoil  of  the  day  began. 

He  had  followed  the  whole  case  before  the  magis- 
trates with  the  most  scrupulous  care.  And  since  then, 
he  had  twice  run  across  the  Widriugton  solicitor  for 
the  defence,  who  was  now  instructing  Wharton  This 
man,  although  a  strong  Radical,  and  employed  gener- 
ally by  his  own  side,  saw  no  objection  at  all  to  lettin- 
Lord  Maxwell's  heir  and  representative  understand 
how  in  his  opinion  the  case  was  going.  Aldous  Kae- 
burn  was  a  person  wliom  everybody  respected ;  con- 
fidences were  safe  with  him ;  and  lie  was  himself 
deeply  interested  in  the  affair.  The  Raeburns  bein-^ 
the  liaeburns,  with  all  that  that  implied  for  smaller 


MAJiCKLLA. 


people  in  Brookshiiv,  little  Mr.  Bun-i(l< 
of    no    reason    whatever    why    Westall 


:e  was  awaro 
's    enii)]oyers 


i! 


should  not  know  that,  although  Mr.  Wharton  was 
working  up  the  dcfciuu;  with  an  energy  and  ability 
which  set  liurridge  marvelling,  it  was  still  his,  JUir- 
ridge's  opinion,  that  everytliing  that  could  be  advanced 
would  be  wholly  unavailing  with  the  jury;  that  tlie 
evidence,  as  it  came  into  final  shape,  looked  worse  for 
Hurd  raUier  than  better;  and  tluit  the  oidy  hope  for 
the  man  lay  in  the  after-inoveinent  for  reprieve  Avhich 
can  always  be  got  up  in  a  game-i)resei-ving  case. 

"And  IS  as  a  rule  i)olitical  and  anti-landlord," 
thought  Aldous,  on  one  of  these  mornings,  as  he  roile 
along  the  edge  of  the  down.  He  foresaw  exactly 
what  would  happen.  As  he  envisaged  the  immediate 
future,  he  saw  one  figure  as  the  centre  of  it— not 
Marcella,  but  Wharton!  Wluirton  was  defending, 
Wharton  would  organise  the  petition,  Wharton  would 
ai)ply  for  his  own  support  and  his  grandfather's 
through  Marcella.  To  Wharton  woul.'l  belong  not 
only  the  popular  kudos  of  the  matter,  but  much 
more,  and  above  all,  Marcella's  gratitude. 

Aldous  pulled  up  his  horse  an  instant,  recognising 
that  spot  in  the  road,  that  downward  stretching  glade 
among  the  beeches,  where  he  had  asked  ]\rarceila  to 
be  his  wife.  The  pale  February  sunlight  was  spread- 
ing from  his  left  hand  through  the  bare  grey  trunks, 
and  over  the  distant  shoulders  of  the  woods,  far  into 
the  white  and  purple  of  the  chalk  plain.  Sounds  of 
labour  came  from  the  distant  fields  ;  sounds  of  winter 
birds  from  the  branches  round  him.  The  place,  the 
time,  raised  in  him  all  the  intensest  powers  of  con- 


I 

n 
.ft 


vviis  jiwure 
employers 
liarton  was 
and  ability 
ill  liis,  I>ur- 
)e  advanced 
Y]  that  the 
d  worse  for 
ily  hope  for 
i'i(;ve  Avliicli 
case. 

i-landlord," 

as  he  rode 

aw  exactly 

immediate 

of  it — not 

defending, 

rton  would 

ndfather's, 

jelong   not 

but   much 


■ecognismg 
hing  ghide 
•larcella  to 
as  spread- 
■ey  trunks, 
Is,  far  into 

Sounds  of 
i  of  Mdnter 

place,  the 
rs  of  con- 


MAIKJELLA.  5 

sciousness.     He  saw  himself  as  the  man  stancUnrj  raul- 

icay  in  everything- speculation,  politics,  svmpathi.s 

-as   the   perennially    ineffective  and,   as  "it  seemed 

o  his  morbid  mood,  the   perennially  .lefeated  tviK, 

beside  the  Whartons  of  this  world.     Wharton!     Jh' 

knew  him -had  read  him  long  ago -read  him  afresh 

of  late.      liaeburn's   lip    sliowed   the    contempt,  the 

bitterness  which  the  philosopher  could  not  repress, 

showed  also  the  humiliation  of  the  lover.     Here  was 

he,  banished  from  Marcella;  here  was  Wharton,  in 

possession  of  her  mind  and  sympathies,  busily  f^r-^- 

ing  a  link  —  -^         o 

"It  shall  be  brol-en!-  said  Eaeburn  to  himself  with 
a  sudden  fierce  concentration  of  will.  "  So  much  I  will 
claim  — and  enforce." 

But  not  now,  nothing  now,  but  patience,  delicacv. 
puidence.  He  gathered  himself  together  with  a  lom^ 
breath,  and  went  his  way. 

_    For  the   rest,  the  clash  of  motives  and  affections 
he  ielt  and  foresaw  m  this  matter  of  the  Dislev  mur- 

debater'""; ''''  ''' ''"'  '"""'  ''"'''»'="'=■     ^he  moral 
debate  ,^  as  strenuous  enough.   Tlie  murders  had  roused 

all  the  humane  and  ethical  instincts,  vhich  were  in  fact 

t  mir'i  '".r"''  '  '""."  "'"'  *''^^'  ''"^"«'  '■""  con- 
stantly, m  the  paus..s  of  his  crowded  days,  like  aven- 

n.S  trnmyes.     Hallin's  remark  that  ■'  Kam^.preservi t 

reates  cnme"  left  hin>  no  peace.     Intelle  .tually    ^ 

argued  ,t,  and  on  the  whole  rejected  it;  morally,  »d 

ma  uie  hfe  under  ,,  too  painful  and  scrunulous  «„,=« 
tiuil  he,  more  than  other  men,  was  called  to  be  his 


6  MAJiCKLLA. 

brother's  keeper.  It  was  iiiitiirnl  tliat,  dnrin-  th(!se 
exhausting  (hiys,  tlie  Heree  death  on  Westall's  nigged 
taee,  the  jjiteous  agony  in  Dynes's  young  ey(^s  and 
limbs,  should  haunt  liini,  should  make  liis  landlord's 
place  and  responsibility  often  mere  ashes  and  l)itter- 
ness. 

But,  as  IVIarcella  had  been  obliged  to  ]ierceive,  he 
drew  the  sharpest  line  between  the  bearings  of  this 
gliastly  business  on  his  own  private  life  and  action, 
and  its  relation  to  public  order.    That  the  gamekeepers 
destroyed  were  his  sei-vants,  or  practically  his  servants, 
made  no  difference  to  him  whatever  in  his  estimate  of 
the  crime  itself.     If  the  circumstances  had  been  such 
that  he  could  honestly  have  held  Hard  not  to  be  a 
murderer,  no  employer's  interest,  no  landlord's  desire 
for  vengeance,  would  have  stood  in  his  way.     On  the 
other  hand,  believing,  as   he   emphatically  did,  that 
Hurd's  slaying  of  AVestall  had  been  of  a  kind  more 
deliberate  and  less  capable  of  excuse  than  most  mur- 
ders, he  would  have  held  it  a  piece  of  moral  cowardice 
to  allow  his  own  qualms  and  compunctions  as  to  the 
rights  and  wrongs  of  game-i)reserving  to  interfere  with 
a  duty  to  justice  and  society. 

Ay!  and  something  infinitely  dearer  to  him  than 
his  own  qualms  and  compunctions. 

Hallin,  who  watched  the  whole  debate  in  his  friend 
day  by  day,  was  conscious  that  he  had  never  seen 
Aldous  more  himself,  in  sjute  of  trouble  of  mind; 
more  "  in  character,"  so  to  speak,  than  at  this  moment.' 
Spiritual  dignity  of  mind  and  temper,  blended  with  a 
painful  personal  humility,  and  interfused  with  all  -^ 
determining   all  — elements   of  judgment,  subtleties, 


f 
4 


I  4 


liiriu,«,^  those 
tail's  rugged 
ig  oyos  and 
s  landlord's 
1  and  bitter- 
perceive,  he 
ings  of  this 
and  action, 
gamekeepers 
lis  servants, 
estimate  of 
d  been  such 
;iot  to  be  a 
ord's  desire 
ly.     On  the 
y  did,  that 
kind  more 
most  mur- 
1  cowardice 
s  as  to  the 
;erfere  with 

I  him  than 

1  his  friend 
never  seen 
i  of  mind; 
is  moment, 
ded  with  a 
with  all  — 
subtleties. 


MARC  ELL  A.  7 

prejudices,  modes  of  looking  at  things,  for  which  he 
was  hardly  responsible,  so  deeply  ingrained  were  they 
by  inheritance  and  custom.  More  than  this :  did  not 
the  ultimate  explanation  of  the  whole  attitude  of  the 
man  lie  in  the  slow  but  irresistible  revolt  of  a  strong 
individuality  against  the  passion  which  liad  for  a  time 
suppressed  it  ?  The  truth  of  certain  moral  relations 
may  be  for  a  time  obscured  and  distorted ;  none  the 
less,  reality  wins  the  day.     So  Hallin  read  it. 

Meanwhile,  during  days  when  both  for  Aldous  and 
Wharton  the  claims  of  a  bustling,  shouting  public, 
which  must  be  canvassed,  shaken  hands  with,  and 
spoken  to,  and  the  constant  alternations  of  business 
meetings,  committee-rooms  and  the  rest,  made  it  im- 
possible, after  all,  for  either  man  to  spend  more  than 
the  odds  and  ends  of  thought  upon  anything  outside 
the  clatter  of  polities,  :\rarcella  had  been  living  a  life 
of  intense  and  monotonous  feeling,  shut  up  almost 
within  the  Avails  of  a  tiny  cottage,  hanging  over  sick- 
beds, and  thrilling  to  each  pulse  of  anguish  as  it  beat 
m  the  miserable  beings  she  tended. 

The  marriage  of  the  season,  with  all  its  accompany- 
nig  festivities  and  jubilations,  had  not  been  put  off  for 
seven  weeks -till  after  Easter -without  arousing  a 
storm  of  critical  astonishment  both  in  village  ami 
county.  And  when  the  reason  was  known  — that  it 
was  because  Miss  Boyce  had  taken  the  Disley  murder 
so  desperately  to  heart,  that  until  the  whole  affair  was 
over,  and  the  men  either  executed  or  reprieved,  she 
could  spare  no  thought  to  u'edding  clothes  or  cates  — 
there  was  curiously  little  sympathy  with  Marcella 


8 


MAHVKLLA. 


«l 


Most  of  lier  own  class  tli()uj,'lit  it  a  piece  of  posing,  if 
they  (lid  not  say  so  as  frankly  as  Miss  Uaehurn  — 
somothins,'  done  for  self-advcn-tisenient  and  to  advan;!c 
anti-social  opinions ;  while  tlu!  Mellor  cottagers,  with 
the  instinctive  English  recoil  from  any  touch  of  senti- 
ment not,  so  to  speak,  in  the  bargain,  gossiped  and 
joked  about  it  freely. 

'*  She  can't  be  very  fond  o'  'im,  not  of  Muster  Rae- 
burn,  she  can't,"  said  ohl  I'atton,  delivering  himself  as 
he  sat  leaning  on  his  stick  at  his  open  door,  while  his 
wife  and  another  woman  or  two  chattered  inside. 
''  Not  what  I'd  call  lover-y.  iShe  don't  want  to  run  in 
harness,  she  don't,  no  sooner  than  she  need.  She's  a 
peert  lilly  is  Miss  Boyce." 

"I've  been  a-waitiu',  an'  a-waitin',"  said  his  wife, 
with  her  gentle  sigh,  "to  hear  summat  o'  that  new 
straw-plaitin'  she  talk  about.  But  nary  a  word.  They 
do  say  as  it's  give  up  althegither." 

"  No,  she's  took  uj)  wi'  nursin'  Minta  Hurd  —  won- 
derful took  up,"  said  another  woman.  "  They  do  say 
as  Ann  Mullins  can't  abear  her.  When  she's  there 
nobody  can  open  their  mouth.  When  that  kind  o' 
thing  happens  in  the  fambly  it's  bad  enoof  wi-.hout 
havin'  a  lady  trailiir  about  you  all  day  long,  so  that 
you  have  to  be  mindin'  yersel',  an'  thinkin'  about 
giviii'  her  a  cheer,  an'  the  like." 

One  day  in  the  dusk,  more  than  a  fortnight  after 
the  inquest,  Mareella,  coming  from  the  Hurds'  cottage, 
overtook  Mrs.  Jellison,  who  was  going  home  after 
spending  the  afternoon  vith  her  daughter. 

Hitherto  ]\Iarcella  had  held  aloof  from  Isabella 
Westall  and  her  relations,  mainly,  to  do  her  justice. 


MAKCKLLA. 


9 


if  posiii},',  if 
KiU'lmni  — 
I  to  iulvair.ui 
ttij^crs,  with 
K^h  of  sciiti- 
jssip(.'d   iiiul 

yiuator  Kao- 
,'  himsulf  as 
r,  while  his 
!red  inside, 
tit  to  run  in 
id.     She's  a 

:d  liis  wife, 
)'  tliat  new 
ord.     They 

urd  —  won- 
'hey  do  say 
she's  there 
lat  kind  o' 
of  without 
ng,  so  thiit 
kin'   about 

light  after 
is'  cottage, 
lonie  after 

u  Isabelhi 
er  justice, 


.4 


from  fear  lest  she  nnght  somehow  hurt  or  offend 
the.n.  She  had  l,een  to  see  Charlie  Dynes's  mother,  but 
she  had  only  brought  herself  to  send  a  message  of  sym- 
pathy througli  Mary  Harden  to  the  keei^r's  widow 

Mrs.  Jelhson  looked  at  her  askance  with  h.-r  ohl 
wild  eyes  as  Marcella  came  up  with  her 

"Oh    she's  pucldlln^  along,"  she  said*  in  answer  to 
Marcella  s  inquiry,  using  a  word  very  familiar  in  the 
village.  "She'll  not  do  herself  a  mischief  while  there's 
Nurse  Ellen  an'  me  to  watch  her  like  a  p.ir  o'  cats 
She  s    dreadful    upset,    is    Isabella  -  shouhln't    ha' 
thought  It  of  her.     That  fust  day  "-a  cloud  dark- 
ened the  curious,  .Ireamy  face-',  no,  I'm  not  a-goin' 
to  think  about  that  fust  day,  I'm  not,  'tain't  a  ha'porth 
o  good/  she  added  resolutely  ;  .-  but  she  was  all  ri<dit 
when  they  d  let  her  get  "im  "ome,  and  wash  an'  settle 
"n,  an  put  •ini  comfortal)le  like  in  his  coffin.     He  wor 
a  big  man,  miss,  when  he  wor  laid  out !     Searle  is 
niade  the  coffin,  told  her  as  ee  'adn't  made  one  such  an 
extry  size  since  old  Harry  Flood,  the  blacksnnth.  fif- 
teen year  ago.     Ee'd  soon  a  done  for  Jim  Hurd  if  it 
ad  been  fists  o'  both  sides.     But  guns  is  things  as  ye 
cant  reckon  on."  ^    'i»  jei 

sail  J,     ana  prosecute  him  next  day  ?    Ifs  attacking 
r  J'r -r^  Mooa  i.  np  that  Ln,  these  J^^ 

«ousIy ;   .he  «-or  paid  to  do 't-  an'  he  had  the  Lv  ol 
his  s,de.   -O^v  's  she  ?  ■'  she  said,  lowering  her  vlioe  \iu 

.Nhe  s  very  ill,  ■  rephed  Marcella,  with  a  coutractiou 


r~ 


10 


MAHCKLLA. 


ol"  the  brow.  "Dr.  Clarke  says  she  ought  to  stay  in 
bed,  but  of  course  she  won't." 

"They're  a -^'oin'  to  try  'im  Tlmrsilay  ?"  said  Mrs. 
JeUison,  inciuiringly. 

"  Yes." 

"  .\n'  Muster  Wharton  be  a-goin'  to  defend  'ini. 
Muster  Wharton  may  be  cliver,  ee  may  —  they  do  say 
>i.i  ee  can  see  the  grass  growin',  ee's  that  knowin'  — 
but  ee'll  not  get  Jim  Hurd  off;  there's  nobody  in  the 
vilhige  as  b'lieves  for  a  moment  as  'ow  he  will.  Tliey'll 
best  'im.  Lor'  bless  yer,  they'll  best  'iui.  1  was 
.1-sayin'  it  to  Isabella  this  afternoon  —  ee'll  not  save 
'is  neek,  don't  you  be  afeared." 

Mareella  drew  herself  up  with  a  shiver  of  repulsion. 

"  Will  it  mend  your  daughter's  grief  to  see  another 
woman's  heart  broken?  Don't  you  sup])0se  it  might 
bring  her  some  eomfort,  Mrs.  Jellison,  if  she  were  to 
try  and  forgive  that  poor  wretch  ?  She  might  re- 
member that  her  husband  gave  him  provocation,  and 
that  anyway,  if  his  life  is  spared,  his  punishment 
and  their  misery  will  be  heavy  enough  I " 

"  Oh,  lor'  no  ! "  said  Mrs.  Jellison,  composedly.  "  She 
don't  want  to  be  forgivin'  of  'im.  JVIr.  Harden  ee 
(;ome  talkin'  to  'er,  but  she  isn't  one  o'  that  sort,  isn't 
Isabella.  I'm  sartin  sure  she'll  be  better  in  'erself 
when  they've  put  'im  out  o'  the  way.  It  makes  her 
all  ov  a  fever  to  think  of  Master  Wharton  gettin'  'im 
off.  /  don't  bear  Jim  Hurd  no  pertickler  malice. 
Isabella  mav  talk  herself  black  i'  the  face,  but  she 
and  Johnnie  '11  have  to  come  'ome  and  live  along  o' 
me,  whatever  she  iiuty  say.  She  c^n't  stay  in  that 
cottage,  cos  they"  11  he  wantin'  it  for  another  kee])er. 


MAU('KLLA. 


ght  to  Mtiiy  in 


r  ?  "  said  Mrs. 


0  defend  'im. 
—  they  do  say 
lat  knovvin'  — 
nobody  in  the 
will,  'i'hey'll 
•,  'ini.  1  'A'lis 
ee'll  not  save 

r  of  repulsion. 
0  see  another 
])Ose  it  might 
f  she  were  to 
^he  might  re- 
)voeatioii,  and 

s  punishment 

I) 

)osedly.  "  She 
r.  Harden  ee 
hat  sort,  isn't 
tter  in  'erself 
It  makes  her 
on  gettin'  'im 
ickler  malice, 
face,  but  she 
live  along  o' 
stay  in  that 
other  kee])er. 


11 


Lo,  1  Maxwell  ee's  ,  .W  her  a  tine  ponsio,.,  ,nv  word 
ee  js!  an'  says  ee  11  look  after  Johnr.i..  And  what 
with  my  b.t  a.rn„.s- we'll   do,  yer   know,   miss-. 

The  old  woi.KUi  looked  up  with  a  nod,  her  gr.>en 
eyes  sparkling  with  th.  ,p,eer  inhuman  light  tha, 
belonged  t«.  them. 

Maroella  could  not  bring  herself  to  say  good-ni-dit 
to  her   and  was  hurrying  on  w"  hout  a  word,  when 
Mrs.  Jellison  stopped  her. 
^^  'j  An'  'ow  about  that  straw-plaitin',  miss  ?  "  she  sai  1 

^  •!  have  had  to  put  it  on  one  side  for  a  bit."'  said 
Marcella,  coldly,  hating  the  woman's  societ^  '^ 
have  had  my  hands  full  and  Lady  Winterbour^e  has 
been  .uvay,  but  we  shall,  of  cc  urse,  take  it  up  again 

She  walked  away  quickly,  and  Urs.  Jellison  hobbled 

trT'^'f"""  *'  ^'''''^'  evrynowand  then  as 
she  caught  the  straight,  tall  figure  against  the  re.l 
evening  sky. 

"I'll  go  in  ter  town  termon-er,"  .she  thought.    '•  ,u' 
have  a  crack  wi'  Ji„„„y  Gcdge;  ee    ,eo<l„'t  be  afear,! 
for  '.s  l,v,„'.     An'  them  great  fnles    .  ha'  bin  runnTu 
"1  a  string  arter  'er,  an'  cacklin'  aboiu  tlieir  eighteen 
pence  .a  score,  as  I've  tol.l  'ein  times,  -11  eat  mj-ajiro,, 
h  el^ist  week  as  iver  they  get  it.     i   don't  hold'  « i' 

oillTl-  TP'^'™' "''''''<'■■ -'•°'  »-h™  it  comes 
to  „  edd  in  wi'  your  wittles,  an'  dietat,  ,'  to  yer  about 
forgivin-  them  as  ha'  g„t  the  better  v  yer  nZt 
young  Lady  there,  what  do  she  matter .  That  sort's 
alius  gaddin'  a.„ut  ?    Wliafil  she  keer  about  us  W    i 


12 


M ABC  ELL  A. 


she's  got  'er  fine  husband  ?  Here  o'  Saturday,  gone  o' 
Monday — that's  what  she  is.  Now  Jimmy  Gedge, 
yer  kin  alhis  count  on  'im.  Thirty-six  year  ee  ha'  set 
there  in  tliat  'ere  shop,  and  I  guess  ee'll  set  there  till 
they  call  'im  ter  kingdom  come.  Ee's  a  cheatin', 
sweatin',  greedy  old  skinflint  is  Jimmy  Gedge;  but 
when  yer  wants  'im  yer  /cm  find  'im." 


Marcella  hurried  home,  she  was  expecting  a  letter 
from  Wharton,  the  third  within  a  week.  She  had  not 
set  eyes  on  him  since  they  had  met  that  first  morning 
in  the  drive,  and  it  was  plain  to  her  that  he  was  as 
unwilling  as  she  was  that  there  should  be  any  meeting 
between  them.  Since  the  moment  of  his  taking  up  the 
case,  in  spite  of  the  pressure  of  innumerable  engage- 
ments, he  had  found  time  to  send  her,  almost  daily, 
sheets  covered  with  his  small  even  writing,  in  which 
every  detail  and  prospect  of  the  legal  situation,  so  far 
as  it  concerned  James  Hurd,  were  noted  and  criticised 
with  a  shrewdness  and  fulness  which  never  wavered, 
and  never  lost  for  a  moment  the  professional  note. 

"  Dear  Miss  Boyce  "  —  the  letters  began  —  leading  up 
to  a  "  Yours  faithfully,"  which  Marcella  read  as  care- 
fully as  the  rest.  Often,  as  she  turned  them  over,  she 
asked  herself  whether  that  scene  in  the  library  had  not 
been  a  mere  delusion  of  the  brain,  whether  the  man 
whose  wild  words  and  act  had  burnt  themselves  into 
her  life  could  possibly  be  writing  her  these  letters,  in 
this  key,  without  a  reference,  without  an  allusion. 
Every  day,  as  she  opened  them,  she  looked  them 
through  quietly  with  a  shaking  pulse ;  every  day  she 
found  herself  proudly  able  to  hand  them  on  to  her 


4 

i 


% 


MA  lie  EL  LA. 


M 


:day,  gone  o' 
amy  Gedge, 
ir  ee  ha'  set 
't  there  till 
a  cheat!  n', 
Gedge ;  but 


ing  a  letter 
She  had  not 
rst  morning 
t  he  was  as 
my  meeting 
iking  up  the 
ible  engage- 
•most  daily, 
g,  in  whicli 
ition,  so  far 
id  criticised 
er  wavered, 
lal  note. 
-  leading  up 
ad  as  care- 
ni  over,  she 
ary  had  not 
n-  the  man 
selves  into 
?.  letters,  in 
n  allusion, 
oked   them 
)ry  day  she 
on  to  her 


18 

mothor,  witl,  the  s.tisfa,.ti„n  of  one  wj,„  J.us  uothin,, 
to  conceal,  whatever  the  rest  of  the  worid  may     "s' 
pect     He  was  certainly  doing  his  best  to  replace  tle^ 
friendship  on  that  level  of  high  comradesl,  p  in  i  e' 
and  causes  which,  as  she  told  herself,  it  had  oLe  oc  " 
pied     His  own  wanton  aggression  and  her  weakness 
had  topp  ed  It  down  thence,  and  brought  it  to  i"   , 
She  conld  never  speak  to  him,  never  ki^w  him  ag  ;„ 
till  It  was  re-established.     Still  his  letters  galled  he 
He  assumed,  she  supposed,  that  such  a  thing  cmll 

little  he  knew  her,  or  what  she  had  in  her  mind  - 
Now,  as  she  walked  along,  wrapped  in  her'rl-iid 

ot  painful  or  passionate  images,  interrupted  none  the 
less  at    ,n,es  by  those  curious  self-observing  pan  es  o 
which  she  ha<l  always  been  capable.    She  h^d  tee,  sit 
mg  for  hours  beside  Mrs.  H.ird,  with  little  WilHe    ,  on 
her  knees.     The  mother,  always  anccmie  and  eo  s      , 
tive,  was  by  now  prostrate,  the  prey  of  a  lon.-dra  ™ 
agony,  peopled  by  visions  of  Ji„>i]o„e  and  in  p^i  „,T™ 
Jiin  on  the  scaffold  with  tlie  white  cap  over  h  s  eve  I 
Jim  in   the  prison  coffin  -  which  would  rolse  h^ 
shrieking  from  dreams  uhich  were  the  remL  "as.  „! 
of  soul  and  body.     Minta  Kurd's  love  for  ttCZ  v 
being  who  had  brought  her  to  this  pass  lu  d  b  t    f 
hniMy  maternal.     There  had  been  a'boundless  ,  tVi." 
It,  and  the  secret  pride  of  a  soul,  which,  humble  and 
modest  towards  .,11  the  rest  of  the  word   TX 
.»-«  to  be  the  breath  and  .suste!    n  e '     c        i  IT 

::ctdtH^°rbtrt:^r''V'"'™;-"'^« 

o  .V .      i o  bo  cut  off  now-  from  all  ministration, 


ir 


14 


MARCELLA. 


all  comforting —  to  have  to  lie  there  like  a  log,  imagin- 
ing the  moment  when  the  neighbours  should  come  in 
and  say,  "  It  is  all  over  —  they  have  broken  his  neck  — 
and  buried  him  "  —  it  was  a  doom  beyond  all  even  that 
her  timid  pessimist  heart  had  ever  dreamed.  She  had 
already  seen  him  twice  in  prison,  and  she  knew  that 
she  would  see  him  again.  She  was  to  go  on  Monday, 
Miss  Boyce  said,  before  the  trial  began,  and  after  —  if 
they  brought  him  in  guilty  —  they  would  let  her  say 
good-bye.  She  was  always  thirsting  to  see  him.  But 
when  she  w^ent,  the  prison  surroundings  paralysed  her. 
Both  she  and  Hurd  felt  themselves  caught  in  the 
wheels  of  a  great  relentless  machine,  of  which  the 
workings  tilled  them  with  a  voiceless  terror.  He 
talked  to  her  spasmodically  of  the  most  incongruous 
things  —  breaking  out  sometimes  with  a  glittering  eye 
into  a  string  of  instances  bearing  on  Westall's  bullying 
and  tyrannous  ways.  He  told  her  to  return  the  books 
Miss  Boyce  had  lent  him,  but  when  asked  if  he  would 
like  to  see  Marcella  he  shrank  and  said  no.  Mr. 
Wharton  was  "  doin'  capital "  for  him ;  but  she  wasn't 
to  count  on  his  getting  off.  And  he  didn't  know  that 
he  wanted  to,  neither.  Once  she  took  Willie  to  see 
him ;  the  child  nearly  died  of  the  journey ;  and  the 
father,  "though  any  one  can  see,  miss,  he's  just  sick 
for  'im,"  would  not  hear  of  his  coming  again.  Some- 
times he  would  hardly  kiss  her  at  parting ;  he  sat  on 
his  chair,  with  his  great  head  drooped  forward  over  his 
red  hands,  lost  in  a  kind  of  animal  lethargy.  West- 
all's  name  always  roused  him.  Hate  still  survived. 
But  it  made  her  life  faint  within  her  to  talk  of  the 
murdered  man     -wherein  she  showed  lier  lack  of  the 


MAItCELLA. 


16 


I  log,  imagin- 
•uld  come  in 
Q  his  neck  — 
all  even  that 
id.  She  had 
e  knew  that 
on  Monday, 

id  after  —  if 
let  her  say 
e  him.  But 
tralysed  her. 
light  in  the 
f  which  the 
berror.  He 
incongruous 
littering  eye 
IPs  bullying 
rn  the  books 
if  he  would 
d  no.  Mr. 
it  she  wasn't 
t  know  that 
k'"illie  to  see 
3y;  and  the 
i's  just  sick 
ain.  Sonie- 
l ;  he  sat  on 
'ard  over  his 
rgy.     West- 

II  survived, 
talk  of  the 
lack  of  the 


usijal  peasant's  realism  and  curiosity  in  the  presence 
of  fa.ts  of  blood  and  violence.     VVI  J,  she  was  told  i 

M  inir'h      !r  *"  ^°'  ""''  *'"'  ''''"^y ''""  -^«  looked 
belum    her,  the  [joor  creature,  terrified  at  the  warder 

and  the  bare  prison  silences,  would  hurry  away  as 

hough  the  heavy  hand  of  this  awful  Justice  were  M 

upon  her  too,  torn  by  the  thought  of  him  she  left  be- 

hmd,  and  by  the  remembrance  that  he  had  only  kissed 

her  once  and  yet  impelled  by  mere  physieaiinstinct 

towards  the  rebef  of  Ann  Mullins's  rou/h  face  waiti,  . 

for  her  _  of  the  outer  air  and  the  free  heaven 

As   for  Willie,  he   was   fast   dwindling.     Another 

week  or  two  _  the  doctor  said  _  no  more.     He  h v  on 

Marce  la's  knee  on  a  pillow,  .asted  to  an    „    n  ' 

veight,  pant,ng  and  staring  with  those  strange  bl,e 

ainful  "thank  you  '  when  she  led  him  with  sonie  of 
tl.e  frmt  constantly  sent  her  from  Maxwell  Court 
Everytlnng  that  was  said  about  his  father  he  took  n 
and  understood,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  fret  H  s 
mother  was  ahnost  divided  from  him  by  this  p,.sivity 
of  the  dying;  nor  could  she  give  him  or  his  state 
much  attention.  Her  gentle,  sensitive,  but  not  pro 
toimd  nature  was  strained  already  beyoid  bea  ^g^bt 
more  gnawing  griefs.  ^ 

After  her  long  sit  in. Mrs.  Hurd's  kitchen  Maroella 

If       .,      ™"""'"'''^  i.'.pressions  stole  upon  her- 
he  lengthemng  day,  the  celandines  in  the  hedges  the 

ZtZ  "■"  "^  '"  *''"  """"^^  gardens  "riy 
spoke  to  her  youth,  and  out  of  mere  physical  c„n..r.f 
.ty  .t  could  not  but  respond.     StUl,  iLAj^Z 


16 


MAIiCELLA. 


M':) 


aiif^ered  look  with  Avhic.h  she  had  parted  from  Mrs. 
Jellison.  More  than  tliat  —  the  last  few  weeks  had 
visibly  changed  it,  had  graved  upon  it  the  signs  of 
"living."  It  was  more  beautiful  than  ever  in  its  sig- 
nificant black  and  white,  but  it  was  older  —  a  woman 
spoke  from  it.  Marcella  had  gone  down  into  reality, 
and  had  found  there  the  rebellion  and  the  storm  for 
wluch  such  souls  as  hers  are  made.  Rebellion  most 
of  all.  She  had  been  liviug  with  the  poor,  in  their 
stifling  rooms,  amid  their  i)erpetual  struggle  for  a 
little  food  and  clothes  and  bodily  ease;  she  had  seen 
this  struggle,  so  hard  in  itself,  combined  with  agoi  \es 
of  soul  and  spirit,  which  made  the  physical  destitution 
seem  to  the  spectator  something  brutally  gratuitous, 
a  piece  of  careless  and  tyrannous  cruelty  on  the  part 
of  Nature  —  or  God  ?  She  would  hardly  let  herself 
think  of  Aldous  —  though  she  must  think  of  him  by- 
and-by  !  He  and  his  fared  sumptuously  every  hour ! 
As  for  her,  it  was  as  though  in  her  Avoman's  arms,  on 
her  woman's  breast,  she  carried  Lazarus  all  day,  stooi> 
ing  to  him  with  a  hungering  pity.  And  Aldous  stood 
aloof.  Aldous  would  not  helj)  her  —  or  not  with  any 
help  worth  having  —  in  consoling  this  misery  —  bind- 
ing up  these  sores.  Her  heart  cried  shame  on  him. 
She  had  a  crime  against  him  to  confess  —  but  she  felt 
herself  his  superior  none  the  less.  If  he  cast  her  off 
—  why  then  surely  they  would  be  quits,  quits  for  good 
and  all. 

As  she  reached  the  front  door  of  Mfdlor,  she  saw  a 
little  two-wheeled  cart  standing  outside  it,  and  William 
holding  the  pony. 

Visitors  were  nowadavs  more  common  at  Mcllor 


MARCELLA. 


17 


(1  from  Mrs. 
v  weeks  had 
the  signs  of 
er  in  its  sig- 
r  —  a  woman 
.  into  reality, 
he  storm  for 
bellion  most 
)oor,  in  their 
niggle  for  a 
ilie  had  seen 
with  agoi  ies 
l1  destitution 
Y  gratuitous, 
on  the  part 
y  let  herself 
:  of  him  by- 
every  hour! 
.n's  arms,  on 
11  day,  stoop- 
A.ldous  stood 
Lot  with  any 
sery  —  bind- 
inie  on  him. 
-  but  she  felt 
cast  her  off 
Liits  for  good 

ir,  she  saw  a 
and  William 

n  at  Mellor 


than  they  had  been,  and  her  instinct  was  to  escape 
But  as  she  was  turning  to  a  side  door  William  touched 
his  cap  to  her. 

"Mr.  Wharton  's  waiting  to  see  you,  miss." 

She  stopped  sharply. 

"  Where  is  Mrs.  Boyce,  William  ?  " 

"In  the  drawing-room,  miss."  . 

She  walked  in  talmly.  Wharton  was  standing  on 
the  rug,  talking;  Mrs.  Boyce  was  listening  to  what  he 
had  to  say  with  the  light  repellent  air  Marcella  knew 
so  well. 

When  she  came  in  Wharton  stepped  forward  cere- 
moniously to  shake  hands,  then  began  to  speak  at 
once,  with  the  manner  of  one  who  is  on  a  business 
errand  and  has  no  time  to  waste. 

"I  thought  it  best,  Miss  Boyce,  as  I  had  unex- 
pectedly a  couple  of  spare  hours  this  evening,  to  come 
and  let  you  know  how  things  were  going.  You  under- 
stand that  the  case  comes  on  at  the  assizes  next  Thurs- 
day ?  " 

Marcella  assented.  She  had  seated  herself  on  the 
old  sofa  beside  the  fire,  her  ungloved  hands  on  her 
knee.  Something  in  her  aspect  made  Wharton's  eves 
waver  an  instant  as  he  looked  down  upon  her  — but 
it  was  the  only  sign. 

''  I  should  like  to  warn  you,"  he  said  gravely,  "that 
1  entertain  no  hope  whatever  of  getting  James  Hurd 
ott.  1  shall  do  my  best,  but  the  verdict  will  certainly 
be  murder;  and  the  judge,  I  think,  is  sure  to  take  a 
severe  view.  We  may  get  a  recommendation  to  mercy, 
though  I  believe  it  to  be  extremely  unlikely.  But  if 
so,  the  influence  of  the  judge,  according  to  what  I  hear, 

VOL.   II.  —  2 


Sir 


18 


MARCELLA. 


I:  i 


i 


will  probably  be  against  us.  The  i)rosocution  have  got 
together  extremely  strong  evidence  —  as  to  Kurd's  long 
connection  with  the  gang,  in  spite  of  the  llaeburns' 
kindness  — as  to  his  repeated  threats  that  he  would 
'do  for'  Westall  if  he  and  his  friends  were  inter- 
I'upted  —  and  so  on.  His  own  story  is  wholly  uncor- 
roborated ;  and  Dynes's  deposition,  so  far  as  it  goes, 
is  all  against  it." 

He  went  on  to  elaborate  these  points  with  great 
clearness  of  exposition  and  at  some  length ;  then  he 
paused. 

"This  being  so,"  he  resumed,  "the  question  is,  what 
can  be  done  ?  There  must  be  a  petition.  Amongst 
my  own  party  I  shall  be,  of  course,  able  to  do  some- 
thing, but  we  must  have  men  of  all  sides.  Without 
some  at  least  of  the  leading  Conservatives,  we  shall 
fare  badly.  In  one  word— do  you  imagine  that  you 
can  induce  Mr.  Raeburn  and  Lord  Maxwell  to  sign  ?  " 
Mrs.  Boyce  watched  him  keenly.  Marcolla  sat  in 
frozen  paleness. 

"I  will  try,"  she  said  at  last,  with  deliberation. 
" Then "  —  he  took  up  his  gloves  —  "there  may  be  a 
chance  for  us.  If  yon  cannot  succeed,  no  one  else  can. 
But  if  Lord  Maxwell  and  Mr.  Eaeburn  can  be  secured, 
others  will  easily  follow.  Their  names  — especially 
under  all  the  circumstances  —  will  carry  a  peculiai- 
weight.  I  may  say  everything,  in  the  first  instance  — 
the  weight,  the  first  efPect  of  the  petition  — depends 
on  them.  Well,  then,  I  leave  it  in  your  hands.  Ko 
time  should  be  lost  after  the  sentence.  As  to  the 
grounds  of  our  plea,  I  shall,  of  course,  la^  them  down 
in  court  to  the  best  of  my  ability." 


Mition  have  p^ot 
toHurd'slonir 
the  llaebunis' 
that  lie  woukl 
Is  were  inter- 
wholly  uiicor- 
far  as  it  goes, 

its  with  great 
igtli ;  then  he 

estion  is,  what 
on.  Amongst 
B  to  do  some- 
les.  Without 
ives,  we  shall 
igine  that  you 
rell  to  sign  ?  " 
arcella  sat  in 

iberation. 
here  may  be  a 
one  else  can. 
m  be  secured, 
5  —  especially 
ry  a  peculiar 
3t  instance  — 
an  —  depends 
•  hands.  No 
.  As  to  the 
.  them  down 


I 


MAIiCELLA.  19 

"I  shall  be  there,"  she  interrupted 

He  started      80  did  Mrs.  i^oyee,  but  characteristi- 
cally  she  made  no  ccmnient. 

"  Well,  then,"  he  resumed  after  a  pause,  "  I  need 
say  no  more  for  the  present.     How  is  the  wife  v  " 

She  replied,  and  a  few  other  formal  sentences  of  in- 
quiry or  comment  passed  between  them 

"And  your  election?"  said  Mrs.  Boyce,  still  study- 
mg  hnn  with  hostile  eyes,  as  he  got  up  to  take  leavef 

.est.t""T""      •     '  '^''"  "P  ''''  ^^'^^^«  -i^^^  -  little 
gestu  e  of  unpatience.     -That  at  least  will  be  one 

hread  spun  off  and  out  of  the  way,  whatever  hapr." 

I  must  get  back  to  Widrington  as  fast  as  my  pony  ca 

earryme.     Good-bye,  Miss  Boyce."  ^ 

Marcella  went  slowlv  unsHirs      ti.«  •,  .  , 

hid   ii,«f   r.n       1  ^  upstairs.     The  scene  which 

had  just  passed  was  unreal,  impr.sible;  yet  every 
limb  was  quivering.  Then  the  sound  o  the  fron^ 
door  shutting  sent  a  shock  through  her  whole  na^^^"' 
rhe  hrst  sensation  was  one  of  horrible  emptiness  fori 
lornness.  The  next-her  mind  threw  itself  wi^lfrsh 
vehemence  upon  the  question,  -Can  I,  by  any  means 
get  my  way  with  Alduus  ?"  '    ^  '^  ^  means, 


r 


CHAPTER  XLII. 


"  And  may  tlio  Lord  have  mercy  on  your  soul !  " 
The  deep-pitched  words  fell  slowly  on  Marcella's 
ears,  as  she  sat  leaning  forward  in  tlie  gallery  of  the 
Widi.ngton  Assize  Court.     Women  were  sobbing  be- 
side and  behind  her.     Minta  Kurd,  to  her  left,  lay  in 
a  half-swoon  against  her  sister-in-law,  her  face  buried 
in  Ann's  black  shawl.     For  an  instant  after  Hurd's 
death  sentence  had   been  spoken   Marcella's   nerves 
ceased   to   throo  —  the   long   exhaustion    of    feeling 
stopped.     The  harsh  light  and  shade  of  the  ill-lit 
room;  the  gas-lamps  in  front  of  the  judge,  blanching 
the  ranged  faces  of  the  jury;  the  long  table  of  re- 
porters below,  some  writing,  but  most  looking  intently 
towards  the  dock ;  the  figure  of  Wharton  opposite,  in 
his  barrister's  gown  and  Avig  — that  face  of  his,  so 
small,  nervous,  delicate  —  the   frowning   eyebrows  a 
dark  bar  under  the  white  of  the  wig  —  his  look,  alert 
and  hostile,  fixed  upon  the  judge;  the  heads  and  atti- 
tudes of  the  condemned  men,  especially  the  form  of  a 
fair-haired  youth,  the  i)rincipal  murderer  of  Charlie 
Dynes,  who  stood  a  little  in  front  of  the  line,  next  to 
Hurd,  and  overshadowing  his  dwarf's  stature  —  these 
things  Marcella  saw  indeed;  for  years  after  she  could 
have  described  them  point  by  point;    but  for  some 
seconds  or  minutes  her  eyes  stared  at  them  without 

20 


our  soul ! " 
ou  Miiroella's 
gallery  of  the 
e  sobbing  be- 
ler  left,  lay  in 
er  face  buried 

after  Hurd's 
Bella's  nerves 
n    of    feeling 

of  the  ill-lit 
[ge,  blanching 
^  table  of  re- 
jking  intently 
n  opposite,  in 
ice  of  his,  so 
J  eyebrows  a 
lis  look,  alert 
eads  and  atti- 
the  form  of  a 
er  of  Charlie 
!  line,  next  to 
ature  —  these 
fter  she  could 
but  for  some 
fclicni  without 


MARCELLA.  21 

Shi" h',',lT  "'  "^  *•''  ''*"*  ''^>-'  ""  th'""  ''«urs  that 
she  had  been  sitting  there,  brushe.l  before  her  in 

synthesis  of  thonght,  replaein,  the  stream  ".ft;    ^ 
ion     and   images.      The  crushing  aecuniulatio    tf 

ta^d  to  :■*;?!,-:"""  '"'"•-*--  '»".ingfo:' 
v.::L:s:t^  etfetr'"a''".°'  *"  "*"  ■'^-'''' 

it      fi,„  .1  ,  "'"'"°"  =*"■"'=>' on  under 

.t-the  sharpness,  the  useless,  acrid  ability  of  l" 

ail  ii"     t?""    '"'"'  r'  ^°"'^^'^'"'=  '"«■   '  -   le". 
fail  le,  the  personal  success,  tlie  mixture  of  .^t 

with  energy,  the   technical   accomplishment  of      ! 

could  avMl  tr?  masterly  use  of  all  that 

could  avail,  the  few  quiet  words  addressed  at  the  end 

ar-t'ej;'*' r"'*'  '"'''  ^"^  ">'  ""l»ieation  to  the 

^!::::i::z:  zzr:ir^' -'^^^^^^^ 

tl.e  brain  asserted  itself  '"''  """  ■'""'^  "'^"y- 

;::rsr:reirr^^^^^^^ 

Brookshire  who  '  .^r'T^f'™  "•"""'"'  '"■■  ^ast 
all's  emp  oLr  ,nt  f  ^  ■  -''^'■^"■^"'''  ''"'•>  and  West- 
a  partv-H    '  '"'''  '"■'  ''«f"thed,  in  cl,.,..-e  nf 

Partj.  ,vh.cn  comprised  not  only  JIareella  Boyce 


'2-2 


MAIWKLLA. 


I        ! 


but  the  wife,  sister,  and  little  girl  of  Wcstall's  mur- 
derer. 

On  one  oeeasion  .some  blunt  answer  of  a  witness 
had  provoked  a  laugh  coming  no  one  knew  whence. 
The  judge  turned  to  the  gallery  and  looked  up  sternly 
—  "I  cannot  conceive  why  men  ami  women  —  women 
especially  —  should  conu;  crowding  in  to  hear  such  a 
case  as  this;  but  if  I  hear  another  laugh  I  shall  clear 
the  court."  Marcella,  whose  whole  conscious  nature 
was  by  now  one  network  of  sensitive  nerve,  saw 
Aldous  flush  and  shrink  as  the  words  were  spoken. 
Then,  looking  across  the  court,  she  caught  the  eye  of 
an  old  friend  of  tlie  liaeburns,  a  county  magistrate. 
At  the  judge's  rem,u-k  he  had  turned  involuntarily 
to  where  she  and  Aldous  sat;  then,  as  he  met  Miss 
Boyce's  face,  instantly  looked  away  again.  She 
perfectly  —  passionately  —  understood  that  Brook- 
shire  was  very  sorry  for  Aldous  Kaeburn  that  day. 

The    death    sentences  —  three    in    number were 

over.  The  judge  was  a  very  ordinary  man ;  but,  even 
for  the  )rdinary  man,  such  an  act  carries  witii  it  a 
great  tradition  of  what  is  befitting,  which  imposes  it- 
self on  voice  and  gesture.  When  he  ceased,  the  deep 
breath  of  natural  emotion  could  be  felt  and  heard 
throughout  the  crowded  court;  loud  wails  of  sobbing 
women  broke  from  the  gallery. 

"  Silence ! "  cried  an  official  voice,  and  the  judge 
resumed,  amid  stifled  sounds  that  stabbed  Marcella's 
sense,  once  more  nakedly  alive  to  everything  around  it. 

The  sentences  to  penal  servitude  came  to  an  end 
also.  Then  a  ghastly  pause.  The  line  of  prisoners 
directed  by  the  warders  turned  riglit  about  face  towards 


MAIWELLA. 


2^ 


^Vcstall's  mur- 

of  a  witnoHs 
kiKnv  wlu'iHio. 
k<'(l  up  sternly 
men  —  women 
0  liear  such  a 
li  I  shall  clear 
iscious  nature 
e   nerve,    saw 
were  spoken. 
j;ht  the  eye  of 
;y  magistrate, 
involuntarily 
he  met  Miss 
again.      She 
that    Brook- 
11  tliat  day. 
Amber  —  were 
an;  but,  even 
L'ies  with  it  a 
3h  imposes  it- 
ised,  the  deep 
It  and  heard 
Is  o±  sobbing 

nd  the  judge 
3d  Marcella's 
ing  around  it. 
le  to  an  end 
of  prisoners 
b  face  towards 


a  door  m  the  back  wall  of  the  court.  As  th.  men 
hied  out,  the  tall,  fair  youth,  one  of  those  condemned 
to  death,  sto],ped  an  instant  and  waved  his  hand  to 
his  sobbing  sweetheart  in  the  gallery.  Kurd  also 
turned  irresolutely. 

^  ;'Look!"  exclaimed  Ann  Mullins,  propping  up  the 
lainting  woman  beside  her,  "he's  goin'  " 

Marcella  bent  forward.     She,  rather  'than  the  wife, 
caught  the  last  look  on  his  large  dwarf's  face,  so  white 
and  dazed,  the  eyes  blinking  under  the  gas. 
Aldous  touched  her  softly  on  the  arm 
"Yes, "she  said  quickly,  ''yes,  we  must  get  her  out 
Ann,  canyon  lift  her?" 

Aldous  went  to  one  side  of  the  helpless  woman: 
Ann  Mullins  held  her  on  the  other.  Marcella  fol- 
owed,  pressing  the  little  girl  close  against  her  long 
black  c  oak.  The  gallery  made  way  fbr  them;  every 
one  looked  and  whispered  till  they  had  passed.  Be- 
low, at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  they  founcl  themselves 
m  a  passage  crowded  with  people  -  lawyers  wit- 
nesses, officials,  mixed  with  the  populace.  A^ain  a 
road  was  opened  for  Aldous  and  his  charges       ° 

"This  way,  Mr.  Raeburn,"  said  a  poUceman,  ;vith 
aiacrity.^^;Stand   back,    please:     I^our  ca..^:^ 

"Let  Ann  Mullins   take  her-put  them  into  the 

"Miss  Boyce!" 

Marcella   turned  hastily  and  saw  Wharton  beside 


w^ 


■!• 


24 


MARCELLA. 


hor.  Aldous  also  saw  him,  juul  the  two  men  inter- 
changed a  few  words. 

"There  is  a  private  room  close  by,"  said  Wiiarton, 
"  I  am  to  take  you  there,  and  Mr.  Kaeburn  will  join 
us  at  once." 

He  led  her  along  a  corridor,  and  opened  a  door  to 
the  left.  They  entered  a  small  dingy  room,  looking 
through  a  begrimed  window  on  a  courtyard.  The  gas 
was  lit,  and  the  table  was  strewn  with  papers. 

"Never,  never  more  beautiful!"  flashed  through 
"Wliarton's  mind,  '*  with  that  knit,  strenuous  brow  — 
that  tragic  scorn  for  a  base  world  —  that  royal 
gait  —  " 

Aloud  he  said : 

"  I  have  done  my  best  privately  among  the  people 
I  can  get  at,  and  I  thought,  before  I  go  up  to  town 
to-night  —  you  know  Parliament  meets  on  Monday? 
—  I  would  show  you  what  I  had  been  able  to  do,  and 
ask  you  to  take  charge  of  a  copy  of  the  petition."  He 
pointed  to  a  long  envelope  lying  on  the  table.  "I 
have  drafted  it  myself  —  I  think  it  puts  all  the  points 
we  can  possibly  urge  —  but  as  to  tlie  names  —  " 

He  took  out  a  folded  sheet  of  paper  from  his  breast 
pocket. 

"It  won't  do,"  he  said,  looking  down  at  it,  and 
shaking  his  head.  "As  I  said  to  you,  it  is  so  far 
political  merely.  There  is  a  very  strong  Liberal  and 
Radical  feeling  getting  up  about  the  case.  But  that 
won't  carry  us  far.  This  petition  with  these  names 
is  a  demonstration  against  game  preserving  and 
keepers'  tyranny.  What  we  want  is  the  co-operation 
of  a  neiglihourhood,  especially  of  its  leading  citizens. 


MARCELLA. 


25 


)  men  inter- 
id  Wharton, 
irn  will  join 

ed  a  door  to 

)om,  looking 

pd.     The  gas 

,pers. 

lied   through 

unis  brow  — 

-  that    royal 


5  the  people 
up  to  town 
on  Monday? 
le  to  do,  and 
tition."  He 
e  table.  "I 
ill  the  points 
les  —  " 
im  his  breast 

n  at  it,  and 
it  is  so  far 
Liberal  and 
3.  But  that 
these  names 
serving  and 
co-operation 
ing  citizens. 


How(    .1-,  I  explained  all  this  to  you  — there  is  no 
need  to  discuss  it.     Will  you  look  at  the  list?" 

Still  liolding  it,  he  ran  las  Hngcr  over  it,  comment- 
ing here  and  there.  She  stood  beside  liim;  the  sleeve 
of  his  gown  brushed  lier  black  cloak;  and  under  his 
perfect  composure  there  beat  a  wild  exultation  in  Iiis 
]„,wer  — without  any  apology,  any  forgiveness  —  to 
hold  her  there,  alone  with  him,  listening—  lier  proud 
head  stooped  to  his  —  her  eye  following  liis  with  this 
eifort  of  anxious  attention. 

Slie  made  a  few  hurried  remarks  on  the  names,  but 
her  knowledge  of  the  county  was  naturally  not  very 
serviceable.  He  folded  up  the  paper  and  put  it  back. 
"I  think  we  understand,"  lie  said.  '^  You  will  do 
what  you  can  in  the  only  quarter  "  —  he  spoke  slowly 
—  "that  can  really  aid,  and  you  will  communicate 
with  me  at  the  House  of  Commons?  I  shall  do  what 
I  can,  of  course,  when  the  moment  comes,  in  Parlia- 
ment, and  meanwhile  I  shall  start  the  matter  in  the 
Press -our  best  hope.  The  Eadical  papers  are 
already  taking  it  up." 

There  was  a  sound  of  steps  in  the  pap'^age  outside. 
A  policeman  opened  the  door,  and  Aid  .us  liaeburn 
entered.  His  quick  look  ran  over  the  two  figures 
standing  beside  the  table. 

"I  had  some  difficulty  in  finding  a  cab,"  he  ex- 
plained, "and  we  had  to  get  some  brandy;  but  she 
came  round,  and  we  got  lier  off.  I  sent  one  of  our 
men  with  her.     The  carriage  is  here." 

He  spoke -to  Marcella  -  with  some  formality. 
He  was  very  pale,  but  there  was  both  authority  and 
tension  in  his  bearing. 


r 


iiN 


\u 


m: 


26 


MAIiCELLA. 


"I  have  been  consulting  with  Miss  Boyce,"  said 
Wharton,  with  equal  distance  of  manner,  "  as  to  the 
petition  we  are  sending  up  to  the  Home  Office." 
Aldous  made  no  reply. 

"One  word.  Miss  Boyce, "  — Wharton  quietly 
turned  to  her.  "  May  I  ask  you  to  read  the  petition 
carefully,  before  you  attempt  to  do  anything  with  it? 
It  lays  stress  on  the  only  doubt  that  can  reasonably 
be  felt  after  the  evidence,  and  after  the  judge's  sum- 
ming up.  That  particular  doubt  I  hold  to  be  entirely 
untouched  by  the  trial;  but  it  requires  careful  stating 
—  the  issues  may  easily  be  confused." 

"  Will  you  come?  "  said  Aldous  to  Marcella.  What 
she  chose  to  think  the  forced  patience  of  his  tone 
exasperated  her. 

"I  will  do  everything  I  can,"  she  said  in  a  low, 
distinct  voice  to  Wharton.     "Good-bye." 

She  held  out  her  hand.  To  botli  the  moment  was 
one  of  infinite  meaning;  to  her,  in  her  high  spiritual 

excitement,  a  sacrament  of  pardon  and  gratitude 

expressed  once  for  all  —  by  this  touch  —  in  Aldous 
Raeburn's  presence. 

The  two  men  nodded  to  each  other.  Wharton  was 
already  busy,  putting  his  papers  together. 

"We  shall  meet  next  week,  I  suppose,  in  the 
House?"  said  Wharton,  casually.  "Good-night." 

"Will  you  take  me  to  the  Court?"  said  Marcella 
to  Aldous,  directly  the  door  of  the  carriage  was  shut 
upon  them,  and,  amid  a  gaping  crowd  that  almost 
filled  the  little  market-place  of  Widrington,  the 
horses  moved  off.     "I  told  mamma,  that,  if  I  did 


MAIiCELLA. 


27 


Boyce,"  said 
Br,  "as  to  the 
Office." 

I'ton  quietly 
L  the  petition 
king  with  it? 
n  reasonably 
judge's  suni- 
io  be  entirely 
ireful  stating 

cella.    What 
of  his  tone 

id  in  a  low, 

I 

moment  was 
igh  spiritual 
gratitude  — 
—  in  Aldous 

Vharton  was 

ose,  in  the 
-night." 

id  Marcella 
ge  was  shut 
that  almost 
ington,  the 
it,  if  I  did 


i.th"  ^°"       '""^  '"'  •'''*  ^™"'  ""^  Court  to- 

She  still  held  the  packet  Wliarton  had  given  her  in 

-■  lujnd      As  tl>ough  for  air,  she  had  thrown  Lk 

he  black  gauze  veil  she  had  worn  all  ti-rough  tl>e 

to™  """Adr  '''"^r'"^  «'™»Sl.  the  lights  of  the 
town  Aldous  could  see  in  her  face  the  signs- 
tl.o  phun,  startling  signs -of  the  effect  of  these 
>^eks  upon  her.  Pale,  exhausted,  yet  showing  , 
every  „,oven,ent  the  nervous  excitement  which  was 
tavng  her  on  -  his  heart  sank  as  he  looked  at  her  1 
ioreseeuig  what  was  to  come. 

As  soon  as  the  main  street  had  been  left  behind 
l.e  put  h.s  head  out  of  the  window,  and  gave  "it 
eoaclnnan,  who  had  been  told  to  go  to  ilellor.'^  nt 

"Will  you  mind  if  I  don't  talk?"  said  Marcella 

out,  but  I  m.glit  rest  now  a  little.     When  we  cet  t„ 

the  Court   will  you  ask  Miss  Bacburn  to  le    „e  have 

nrrat'lc""'?'*^-™™"^    Then,at„ine:v;:ek 

youl rjethe"™  '°™  ""^  "^  ^"■'1  ^--"  -d 

What  she  said,  and  the  manner  in  which  she  said 

ut  a  cush.on  belun.l  her,  wrapped  the  rugs  round 
.er  and  then  sat  silent,  train  after  train  of  dos    a 

lolled  along  tlie  dark  roads.  ^ 

When  they  arrived  at  Maxwell  Court  the  sound 
o  the  carnage  brought  Lord  Maxwell  anOHs^S^ 
burn  at  once  into  the  hall. 


Tvn" 


!l 


28 


MARCELLA. 


Aldous  went  forward  in  front  of  Marcella.  "  I  have 
brought  Marcella/'  he  said  hastily  to  his  aunt. 
''Will  you  take  her  upstairs  to  your  sitting-room,  and 
let  her  have  some  food  and  rest?  She  is  not  fit  for 
the  exertion  of  dinner,  but  she  wishes  to  speak  to  my 
grandfather  afterwards." 

Lord  Maxwell  had  already  hurried  to  meet  the 
black-veiled  figure  standing  proudly  in  the  dim  light 
of  the  outer  hall. 

"My  dear!  my  dear!"  he  said,  drawing  her  arm 
within  his,  ond  patting  her  hand  in  fatherly  fash- 
ion.    "How  worn-out   you  look!  —  Yes,  certainly 

Agneta,  take  her  up  and  let  her  rest  —  And  you  Avish 
to  speak  to  me  afterwards?  Of  course,  my  dear,  of 
course  —  at  any  time." 

Miss  Raeburn,  controlling  herself  absolutely,  partly 
because  of  Aldous's  manner,  partly  because  of  the  ser- 
vants, took  her  guest  upstairs  straightway,  put  her  on 
the  sofa  in  a  cheerful  sitting-room  with  a  bright  fire, 
and  then,  shrewdly  guessing  that  she  herself  could  not 
possibly  be  a  congenial  companion  to  the  girl  at  such 
a  moment,  whatever  might  have  happened  or  might 
be  going  to  happen,  she  lookeu  at  her  watch,  said 
that  she  must  go  down  to  dinner,  and  promptly  left 
her  to  the  charge  of  a  kind  elderly  maid,  who  was 
to  do  and  get  for  her  whatever  she  would. 

Marcella  made  herself  swallow  some  food  and  wine. 
Then  she  said  that  she  wished  to  be  alone  and  rest  for 
an  hour,  and  would  come  downstairs  at  nine  o'clock. 
The  maid,  shocked  by  her  pallor,  was  loth  to  leave 
her,  but  Marcella  insisted. 

When  slie  was  left  alone  she  drew  b.erself  up  to  the 


MARCELLA. 


29 


3lla.  "  I  have 
to  his  aunt. 
;ing-rooin,  and 
is  not  lit  for 
0  speak  to  my 

to  meet  the 
the  dim  light 

'^ing  her  arm 
fatherly  fash- 
5,  certainly  — 
ind  you  wish 
J,  my  dear,  of 

•lutely,  partly 
ise  of  the  ser- 
ly,  put  her  on 
a  bright  fire, 
■self  could  not 
e  girl  at  such 
ned  or  might 
•  watch,  said 
promptly  left 
lid,  who  was 
I. 

ood  and  wine, 
e  and  rest  for 
nine  o'clock, 
loth  to  leave 


self  up  to  the        ^ 


yd 


fire  and  tried  hard  to  get  warm,  as  she  had  tried  to 
eat.    When  in  this  way  a  portion  of  physical  ease  and 
strength  had  come  back  to  her,  she  took  out  the  peti- 
tion from  Its  envelope  and  read  it  carefully.     As  she 
did  so  her  lip  relaxed,  her  eye  recovered  something 
of  Its  brightness.     All  the  points  that  had  occurred 
to  her  confusedly,  amateurishly,  tliroughout  the  dav 
were  here  thrown  into  luminous  and  admirable  form' 
hhe  had  listened  to  them  indeed,  as  urged  by  Whar- 
ton in  his  concluding  speech  to  the  jury,  but  it  had 
not,  alas!  seemed  so  marvellous  to  lier  then,  as  it  did 
now,  that,  after  such  a  plea,  the  judge  should  have 
summed  up  as  he  did. 

When  she  had  finished  it  and  had   sat   thinkinj,^ 
awhile  over  the  declining  fire,  an  idea  struck   her 
bhe  took  a  piece  of  paper  from  Miss  Raeburn's  desk' 
and  wrote  on  it :  ' 

"  Will  you  read  this  —  and  Lord  Maxwell  —  before 
r^  c^m^e  ^down?      I   forgot   that    you    had   not   seen 

A  ring  at  the  bell  brought  tlie  maid. 

"Will  you  please  get  this  taken  to  Mr.  KaeburnV 
And  then,  don't  disturb  me  again  for  half  an  hour  "  ' 

And  for  that  time  she  lay  in  Miss  Raeburn's  favour- 
ite chair,  outwardly  at  rest.  Inwardly  she  was  rang- 
ing all  her  arguments,  marshalling  all  her  forces 

When  the  chiming  .clock  in  the  great  hall  below 
struck  nine,  she  got  up  and  put  the  lamp  for  a  moment 
on  tlie  mantelpiece,  which  lield  a  mirror.  She  had 
already  bathed  her  face  and  smoothe.l  lier  hair.  But 
she  looked  at  herself  again  with  attention,  <lrew  down 
tHe  thick  front  waves  of  hair  a  little  lower  on  the 


80 


MARCELLA. 


Avhite  brow,  as  she  liked  to  have  them,  and  once  more 
straightened  the  colhir  and  cuffs  which  were  the  only 
relief  to  her  plain  black  dress. 

The  house  as  she  stepped  out  into  it  seemed  very 
still.  Perfumed  breaths  of  flowers  and  pot-pourri 
ascended  from  the  hall.  The  pictures  along  the  walls 
as  she  passed  were  those  same  Caroline  and  early 
Georgian  beauties  that  had  so  flashingly  suggested  her 
own  future  rule  in  this  domain  on  the  day  when 
Aldous  proposed  to  her. 

She  felt  suddenly  very  shrinking  and  lonely  as  she 
went  downstairs.  The  ticking  of  a  large  clock  some- 
where —  the  short,  screaming  note  of  Miss  Raeburn's 
parrot  in  one  of  the  ground-floor  rooms  —  these  sounds 
and  the  beating  of  her  own  heart  seemed  to  have  the 
vast  house  to  themselves. 

No!  —  that  was  a  door  opening  — Aldous  coming  to 
fetch  her.     She  drew  a  childish  breath  of  comfort. 

He  sprang  up  the  stairs,  two  or  three  steps  at  a 
time,  as  he  saw  her  coming. 

"Are  you  rested  —  were  they  good  to  you?  Oh! 
my  precious  one !  —  how  pale  you  are  still !  Will  you 
come  and  see  my  grandfather  now?  He  is  quite 
ready." 

She  let  him  lead  her  in.  Lord  Maxwell  was  stand- 
ing by  hi3  writing-table,  leaning  over  the  petition 
which  was  open  before  him  —  one  hand  upon  it.  At 
sight  of  her  he  lifted  his  white  head.  His  flne  aqui- 
line face  was  grave  and  disturbed.  But  nothing 
could  have  been  kinder  or  more  courtly  than  his  man- 
ner as  he  came  towards  her. 

"  Sit  down  in  that  chair.     Aldous,  make  her  com- 


J 

4 


md  onoe  more 
were  the  only 

;  seemed  very 
Qd  pot-pourri 
long  the  walls 
ne  and  early 
suggested  her 
lie   day  when 

lonely  as  she 
:e  clock  some- 
iss  Raeburn's 
-  these  sounds 
sd  to  have  the 

ous  coming  to 
>f  comfort, 
ee  steps  at  a 

;o  you?     Oh! 

[1!     Will  you 

He   is  quite 

ill  Avas  stand- 
the  petition 
upon  it.  At 
lis  fine  aqui- 
But  nothing 
plian  his  man- 

ike  her  com- 


MAECELLA.  3J 

fortable.  Poor  child,  how  tired  she  looks!  I  hear 
you  wislied  to  speak  to  me  on  this  most  unhappy, 
most  miserable  business."  m^^^' 

Marcdla,  who  w.as  sitting  erect  on  the  edge  of  the 
eliau.  „,t;o  wh.oh  Akious  had  put  her,  lifted  her  eyes 

Maxwdl  "  °'""''''™'-  ^'"^  '^'"'  ''''■'^y'  '*«d  I-ord 
"Yes,"  she  said,  struggling  to  keep  down  eagerness 
and  en,ot,on.  "Yes,  1  came  to  bring  you  thfs  net'- 
.o„  winch  is  to  be  sent  up  to  the  Hon.e  Secretary  on 
lelalf  of  J„n  Hurd,  and  -  and  _  to  6e<,  of  you  and 
Aldous  to  s.g„  it,  if  in  any  way  yon  can  /know"* 
w.  1  be  difficult,  but  I  thought  I  nught-  I  .nXte 
able  to  suggest  something  to  you  -  to  convince  you  _ 
as  I  have  known  these  people  so  well -and  it  is  very 
important  to  have  your  signatures  " 

How  crude  it  sounded  _  how  mechanical !     She  felt 
that  she  had  not  yet  command  of  herself.     The  strancre 
place,  the  stately  room,  the  consciousness  of  A  dou 
behind  her -Aldous,  who  should  have  been  on  he 
suk  and  was  not -all  combined  to  intimidate  her 

i.oid  Maxwell's  concern  was  evident.     In  the  first 
1 1»ce,  he  was  painfully,  unexpectedly  struck  bv  the 

:  :J  'V  tr^r^'";.    ™'^'  ^^"•^'  '-"  ^^'"0-  been 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  walking  „p  to  her  and  laying 
a  fatherly  hand  on  her  shoulder,  "my  dear  I  whb  ? 
oonld  make  you  understand  ho,    gladlyl 'wl  1    l 
K  or  ™^«,ingelse,  for  you.  if  AoilriCuM 

far    B  t       ;^™'  '•*"  '">''  f"'- .™"  grandfather's 
•     ^"'  -  """  '^  ^  '"aner  of  conscience,  of  public 


82 


MARC  ELL  A. 


duty,  both  for  Aldous  and  myself.  You  will  not 
surely  imsh  even,  that  we  should  be  governed  in  our 
relations  to  it  by  any  private  feeling  or  motive?" 

"No,  but  I  have  had  no  opportunity  of  speaking 
to  you  about  it  —  and  I  take  such  a  different  view 
from  Aldous.  He  knows  —  everybody  must  know  — 
that  there  is  another  side,  another  possible  view  from 
that  which  the  judge  took.  You  weren't  in  court  to- 
day, were  you,  at  all?" 

"  No.  But  I  read  all  the  evidence  before  the  magis- 
trates with  great  care,  and  I  have  just  talked  over 
the  crucial  points  with  Aldous,  who  followed  every- 
thing to-day,  as  you  know,  and  seems  to  have  taken 
special  note  of  Mr.  Wliarton's  speeches." 

"Aldous!  "  —  her  voice  broke  irrepressibly  into  an- 
other note  —  "I  thought  he  would  have  let  me  speak 
to  you  first !  —  to-night !  " 

Lord  Maxwell,  looking  quickly  at  his  grandson, 
was  very  sorry  for  him.     Aldous  bent  over  her  chair. 

"You  remember,"  he  said,  "you  sent  down  the 
petition.  I  thought  that  meant  that  we  were  to  read 
and  discuss  it.     1  am  very  sorry." 

She  tried  to  command  herself,  pressing  her  hand  to 
her  brow.  But  already  she  felt  the  irrevocable,  and 
anger  and  despair  were  rising. 

"The  whole  point  lies  in  this,"  she  said,  looking 
up :  "  Can  we  believe  Hurd's  own  story?  There  is  no 
evidence  to  corroborate  it.  I  grant  that  —  the  judge 
did  not  believe  it  —  and  there  is  the  evidence  of 
hatred.  But  is  it  not  possible  and  conceivable  all  the 
same?  He  says  that  he  did  not  go  out  with  any 
thought  whatever  of  killing:  Westallj  but  that  when 


MAIiCELLA. 


33 


ITou  will  not 
'•erned  in  our 
motive?  " 
■  of  speaking 
lifferent  view 
mist  know  — 
ole  view  from 
t  in  court  to- 

)re  the  magis- 
t  talked  over 
lowed  every- 
to  have  taken 

sibly  into  an- 
let  me  speak 

lis  grandson, 
reT  her  chair, 
mt  down  the 
)  were  to  read 

g  her  hand  to 
evocable,  and 

said,  looking 
There  is  no 
b  —  the  judge 
3  evidence  of 
livable  all  the 
:»ut  with  any 
ut  that  when 


".•sfc.llcame  upon  him  with  his  stick  up,  thrcaten- 
.ng  ami  abus.ns  hi,u,  as  he  had  ,Iono  often  hefor..  in 
a  ht  of  w,l,  rag«  ho  shot  at  I,i,„.  S.„,Oj,  ,,„,,;,  t|,„^ 
s  nonoo.vablo:'  Thoro  .v-tho.-o  „»,,,  ,„  a  .ilubt; 
o,  ,t  ,t  ,s  numlei-,  mui-der  done  in  that  way  i.,  m,ite 
.pnt,,  ,I,tfe,.ont  f,-on,  other  kinds  an.l  .legrees  of 
murder."  ^ 

Now  she  possessed  herself.     The  gift  of  fiowintr 
persuasive  speech  wliioh  was  naturally  hers,  which 
the  agitations,  the  debates  of  these  weeks  liad  been 
maturing  came  to  her  call.     She  leant  forward  aiul 
ook  up  the  petition.     One  by  one  she  went  througli 
Its  pleas,  adding  to  tliem  here  and  there  from  her  own 
knowledge  of  Kurd  and  his  peasant's  life-present- 
nig  It  all  clearly,  with  great  intellectual  force,   but 
m  an  atmospliere  of  emotion,  of  high  pity,  charged 
throughout   witli   tlie   ''tears   of   things!"      To   her 
Ri-adually,  unconsciously,  the  wliole  matter  _  so  sor- 
jlHl   commonplace,  brutal  in  Lord  Maxwell's  eyes'- 
l.ad  become  a  tragic  poem,  a  thing  of  fear  and  pity"  to 
-^  ^r  whole   being  vibrated.     And  as  J^"^^ 
solved  It,  so  she   reproduced    it.     Wharton's  points 
were  there  indeed,  but  so  were  Kurd's  poverty,  Hn  d' 

insults,  the  miserable  wife,  the  branded  children - 
emphasised,  all  of  them,  by  the   occasional   quiver 
quickly  steadied  again,  of  the  girl's  voice 

Lord  Maxwell  sat  by  his  writing-table,  his  head 
-s  in,  on  his  hand,  one  knee  crossed  over  t      other 
Aldous  still  hung  over  her  Phpir      v  -^i  / 

her      On.wi    '*°^®^^^^®^chaii.     :N^either  interrupted 
ei      One     the  eyes  of  the  two  men  met  over  her 
Jiead-a  distressed,  signilicant  look.     Aldous  heard 


34 


MAltrKLLA. 


I;  ■ 

t     i: 


all  slio.  said,  but  what  a.l)S()rl)('(l  liitn  nuiinlv  ^as  the 
wild  (losirc  to  kiss  t\n\  dark  hair,  so  <ih)S(^  liiilnw  him, 
altornatiiiL;-  with  tho  iniscrahhi  certainty  that  For  him 
at  that  iiionieiit  to  touch,  to  sootlio  liur,  was  to  bo 
repulsed. 

When  her  voice  broken  —  when  she  had  said  all  she 
could  think  of  —  she  reniaintul  looking  imploringly  at 
Lord  Maxwell. 

]Ii!  was  silent  a  little;  then  he  stooped  forward 
and  took  her  hand. 

"  You  Ikivc  spoken,"  he  said  with  gr<\at  feeling, 
**  most  nobly  —  most  well  —  like  a  good  woman,  with 
a  true  compassionate  heart.  Hut  all  these  things  you 
have  said  are  not  new  to  me.  my  dt;ar  child.  Aldous 
warned  me  of  this  petition  —  lie  has  pressed  upon  uw., 
still  more  1  am  sure  upon  himself,  all  that  he  con- 
ceived to  be  your  view  of  the  case  —  the  view  of  those 
who  are  now  moving  in  the  matter.  Hut  with  the 
best  will  in  the  world  I  cannot,  and  I  believe  that  ho 
cannot  —  though  he  nmst  s])eak  for  himself — I  can- 
not take  that  view.  In  my  belief  Kurd's  act  was 
murder,  and  deserves  the  penalty  of  murder.  I  have 
paid  some  attention  to  these  things.  I  was  a  practis- 
ing barrister  in  my  youth,  and  later  I  was  for  two 
years  Home  Secretary.  I  will  explain  to  you  my 
grounds  very  shortly." 

And,  bending  forward,  he  gave  the  reasons  for  his 
judgment  of  the  case  as  carefully  and  as  lucidly 
as  though  he  were  stating  them  to  a  fellow-expert, 
and  not  to  an  agitated  girl  of  twenty-one.  Both  in 
words  and  manner  there  was  an  implied  tribute,  not 
only  to  ]\[arcella,  but  iierhaps  to  that  altered  position 


MMtfKhLA. 


lainly  ''as  the 
>s(^  l)(;l(tw  liiiii, 
'■  that,  For  liiiii 
er,  was  to  bo 

1(1  said  all  she 
imploringly  at 

oped    forward 

groat  fooling, 
.  woman,  with 
L»so  things  you 
hild.  Ahlous 
ssed  upon  mo, 
that  he  con- 
viow  of  those 
])Ut  with  the 
3liove  that  he 
iself  —  T  can- 
ard's act  was 
rdor.  I  have 
was  a  practis- 
.  was  for  two 
1  to   you  my 

'asons  for  his 
id  as  lucidly 
Fellow-expert, 
•ne.  Both  in 
d  tribute,  not 
:ered  position 


3o 


of  tho  woman   in  our  n.ovir.^.  svuM  wh.r-h  aff.ots  v, 
many  things  and  persons  in  unexpootod  whvs 
I  arcella  listened,  restlessly.     She  had  drawn  her 

.=.nd  away,  and  was  twisting  her  handkerchief   be- 
tween her  hngers.     The   flush   that  had  spmn.    ' 
-n  e  she  ,        ..j^ing   had   died   awav.     LlZ 
u  nter  and  whuer.      ^Vhen  Lord  Maxwdl  ceased; she 
said  quickly,  and  as  he  thought  unreasonabl v  -  ' 

oo  you  will  not  sign?  " 
'--Vo/'iie  replied  Knuly,  "I  „.,rmot  sign.     Holding 
the  eonvction  atout  tKe  „..tter   I  do;  I  shou  d    ; 
giving  my  name  f,  statements  I  do  not  believe-  and 
m  order  to  g,ve  myself  the  pleasure  of  pleas.ng.ou 

fo  every  nn.rderer's  wife  and  ehildren,  I  ,houH  be 
not  only  eomm.ttn.g  a  public  wrong,  but  I  should  Z 
doing  what  I  could  to  lessen  the  s.;fetv  and  seeuri^ 
0  one  whole  elass  of  my  servants  _  me^  who  ^:^Z. 
lononrable  service -and  two  of  whom  have  been"o 
cruelly,  so  wantO],ly  hurried  before  tl,eir  ^raker•  " 

His  voice  gave  the  first  sign  of  his  own  d.ep  and 
pamf  .1  feehng  on  the  matter.     Mareella  shivere'l. 
Ihen     she  said  slowly,  ••  Kurd  will  be  executed  •■ 

Lord  jra..wc;i  had  a  moven.ent  of  impatience 

follow  at^V'T,™"'-'*"^  "'''■•""'   "'"'  "-^   -' 
tono«  at  all      There  is  «ome  importance  in  signatures 

-  o^ather  m  the  local  movement  that  the  si'gnatu 

IV  t-en  tV  '  "''''  '"  *"  ""P^-l'  -'-''•  - 
Sec,  M  •  ,  """'  "  ™^^  '"  h<^-  But  anv  Home 
^ecretary  who  could  decide  a   murder  case"  on  anv 

tZ^-""^  "•"'"•"  «'^»  '^°-  "f  '-•»'•  "^o- 
■■n-o.ci,c,.  w,-,uia  not  .iesorve  his  place  a  day -an 


fW 


36 


MARCELLA. 


nMomi 


hour!      Believe   me,   you   mistake    thi   whole   situa- 
tion." 

He  spoke  slowly,  with  the  sharj)  einphitsis  natural 
to  his  age  and  authority.  Mareella  did  not  believe 
him.  Every  nerve  was  beginning  to  throb  anew  with 
that  passionate  recoil  against  tyranny  and  prejudice, 
which  was  i'^  itself  an  agony. 

"And  you  say  the  same?"  she  said,  turning  to 
Aldous. 

"I  cannot  sign  that  petition,"  he  said  sadly. 
"Won't  you  tr}''  and  believe  what  it  costs  me  to 
refuse?" 

It  was  a  heavy  blow  to  her.  Amply  as  sh^i  liad 
been  prepared  for  it,  there  liad  always  been  at  the 
bottom  of  her  mind  a  persn;ision  that  in  the  end  she 
would  get  her  way.  She  had  been  used  to  feel  bar- 
riers go  down  before  that  ultimate  power  of  person- 
ality of  whicli  she  was  abundantly  conscious.  Yet  it 
had  not  availed  her  here  —  not  even  with  the  man 
who  loved  her. 

Lord  iMaxwidl  looked  at  the  two  —  the  man's  face 
of  suffering,  the  girl's  struggling  breath. 

"Tliere,  there,  Aldous!"  he  said,  rising.  "I  will 
leave  you  a  minute.  Do  make  Marcella  rest  —  get 
her,  for  all  our  sakes,  to  forget  this  a  little.  Bring 
her  in  presently  to  us  for  some  coffee.  Above  all, 
persuade  her  that  we  love  her  and  admire  her  with  all 
our  hearts,  but  that  in  a  matter  of  this  kind  she  must 
leave  us  to  do — as  before  God! — what  we  think  right." 

He  stood  before  her  an  instant,  gazing  down  upon 
her  with  dignity  —  nay,  a  certain  severity.  Then 
he  turned  away  and  left  the  room. 


MAliCELhA. 


T    wliolc   situa- 

iphusis  natural 

lid  not  boliovo 

lirol)  anew  with 

uiitl  i)rojiidice, 

lid,  turning  to 

iG  said  sadly, 
t   costs   nie   to 

ply  as  s.'ia  had 
ys  been  at  the 

in  the  end  she 
ed  to  feel  l)ar- 
wer  of  person- 
scious.     Yet  it 

with  the  man 

bhe  man's  face 
h. 

sing.  "I  will 
ella  rest  —  get 
L  little.  Bring 
e.  Above  all, 
ire  her  with  all 
kind  she  must 
'e  think  right." 
ng  down  upon 
3  verity.     Then 


37 


Marcella  sprang  up. 

"Will  you  onler  tl,o  .arriago?"    she  sai.l   i„  a 

llL'Iod  VOmR.      "Twill™ 1.  •       „  ■* 


strangle,]  roice.     " I  will  go  upstairs." 

"Marcella!"  cried  AMous;   "ca,,  you  not  l,e  just 
to  „u,  .    ,t  ,s  iiupossible  for  you  to  be  geuerousv" 
.  list.     :  .,e    epeatcci,  with  a  tone  and  gesture  of 

,  :;■  ;:ir;  '.;"'^'""^'  "■'"  "'"*  f™"  >-•  -  j-™  ca,,  taH; 

i        He  tried  to  speak,  stammered,  and  failed.     That 
strange  paralysis  of  the  will-forces  which  do„s  the 
man  of  reflection  at  the  moment  when  he  ni.ist:.  th 
ake  his  world  by  storm  or  lose  it  was  upon  him 
fe  had  never  loved  her  nuue  passionafly  _  but  -Is 

I";;.,  the^tir  t  prescience  of  the  inevitable  dawned 

i"«,     she  sa.d  again,  walking  stormily  to  md 
fro,   and  catching  at   her    breath  _  "  You     i  "^ 

.o..e,  with  this  life- to  talkof  Justice -the    us 
that  comes  of  slaying  a  man  like  H„rd!    And       i ,  t 
«o  back  to  that  cottage,  to  that  woman,  and    el      e 
tliere  ,s  no  hope -none!     Becanse  yo,    must    ,1 W 
your  conscience -you  who  have  everythim  -     O    -  T 

i.thei!    Don't  come  to  me,  please!     Oh'  I  umst 
tnnk  ho^v  it  can  be.     Things  L.not  go  on  so      J 
-W  kill   myself,  and  make  you  n,is«.a  le.     Hu 

J  'X  fi  '"  ""-*"  *'-  ^'--'0  tl'ose  whom 
me.  wliom  I  carry  „,  my  heart!  " 

«ci  1';;;:";;,*  """^t^-  "« ^-  '-■-  in  her  wiia 


0 


f^ 


88 


MAIWELLA. 


1 1 


"You  are  very  scornful  of  W(Milth,"  he  said,  oatoh- 
ing  her  wrists,  "  but  one  thing  you  have  no  right  to 
scorn!  — the  man  who  has  given  you  his  inmost  heart 
—  and  now  only  asks  you  to  believe  in  this,  that  he 
is  not  the  cruel  hypocrite  you  are  determined  to  make 
him!" 

His  face  quivered  in  every  feature.  Sh(^  was 
checked  a  moment  —  checked  by  the  moral  compulsion 
of  his  tone  and  manner,  as  well  as  by  his  words. 
But  again  she  tore  herself  away. 

^^ Please  go  and  order  the  carriage,"  she  said.  "I 
cannot  bear  any  more.  1  mu,st  go  home  and  rest. 
Some  day  I  will  ask  your  pardon  —  oh!  for  this  — 
and  —  and  —  "  she  was  almost  choked  again  —  "other 
things.  Jiut  now  I  must  go  tiway.  There  is  some 
one  who  will  hel})  me.     I  must  not  forget  that!  " 

The  reckless  words,  the  inflection,  turned  Aldous 
to  stone.  Unconsciously  he  drew  himself  proudly 
erect  —  their  eyes  met.  Then  he  went  up  to  the  bell 
and  rang  it. 

"The  brougham  at  once,  for  Miss  Boyce.  Will 
you  ha.ve  a  maid  to  go  with  you?"  he  asked,  motion- 
ing the  servant  to  stay  till  iMiss  Boyce  had  given  her 
answer. 

"No,  thank  you.  I  must  go  and  put  on  my  things. 
Will  you  explain  to  Miss  Raeburn?  " 

The  footman  opened  the  door  for  her.     She  went. 


3  said,  catcli- 
)  no  right  to 
inmost  heart 
this,  tliat  h«; 
lined  to  make 


\  She  was 
il  compulsion 
y  his  words. 

he  said.  "I 
ne  and  rest. 

l!  for  tliis  — 
:ain  —  "  other 
here  is  some 
■t  that!" 
inied  Aldous 
iselt  proudly 
ip  to  the  bell 

Boyce.  Will 
sked,  nu>tion- 
ad  given  her 

)n  my  things. 

She  went. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"But  this  is  unbearable !"  said  Aldous.  "Do  you 
mean  to  say  that  she  is  at  home  and  that  she  will  not 
see  me?" 

Mrs.  Boyce's  self-possession  was  shaken  for  once  by 
the  flushed  humiliation  of  the  man  before  her. 

"1  am  afraid  it  is  so,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "I  re- 
monstrated with  Marcella,  but  [  could  do  nothing.  1 
think,  if  you  are  wise,  you  will  not  for  the  present 
attempt  to  see  her." 

Aldous  sat  down,  with  his  hat  in  his  liand,  staring 
at  the  floor.  Aft  •  a  few  moments'  silence  he  looked 
up  again. 

"And  she  gave  you  no  messa.ore  for  me?" 
•N'o,"  said   Mrs.  Boyce,  reluctantly.     "Only  that 
she  could  not  bear  to  see  anybody  from  tiie  Court, 
even  you,  while  this  matter  was  still  undecided." 

Aldous's  eye  travelled  round  the  Mellor  drawing- 
room.  It  was  arrested  by  a  chair  beside  him.  On  it 
lay  an  envelope  addressed  tt>  Miss  Boyce,  of  which 
the  handwriting  s..emed  to  him  familiar.  A  needle 
with  some  black  silk  hanging  from  it  had  been  thrust 
into  the  stuffed  ariu  of  the  chair;  the  cushion  at  the 
back  still  bo.e  the  imprint  of  the  sitter.  She  had 
been  there,  not  thiee  minutes  ago,  and  had  fled  be- 

39 


40 


MARCELLA. 


fore  him.  The  door  into  Mrs.  Boyce's  sitting-room 
was  still  ajar. 

He  looked  again  at  the  envelope  on  the  chair,  and 
recognised  the  writing.  Walking  across  to  where 
Mrs.  Boyce  sat,  he  took  a  seat  beside  her. 

"Will  you  tell  me,"  he  said  steadily  — "I  think 
you  will  admit  I  have  a  right  to  know  —  is  Marcella 
in  constant  correspondence  now  with  Henry  Whar- 
ton?" 

Mrs.  Boyce's  start  was  not  perceptible. 

"I  believe  so,"  she  quickly  replied.  "So  far  as  I 
can  judge,  he  writes  to  her  almost  every  other  day." 

"Does  she  shoAv  you  his  letters?" 

"Very  often.  They  are  entirely  concerned  with 
his  daily  interviews  and  efforts  on  Kurd's  behalf." 

"Would  you  not  say,"  he  asked,  after  another 
pause,  raising  liis  clear  grey  eyes  to  her,  "that  since 
his  arrival  here  in  December  Marcella's  whole  views 
and  thoughts  have  been  largely  —  perhaps  vitally  — 
inliuenced  by  this  man?" 

Mrs.  Boyce  had  long  expected  questions  of  tliis 
kind  —  had,  indeed,  often  marvelled  and  cavilled  tliat 
Aldous  had  not  asked  them  weeks  before.  Now  that 
they  were  put  to  her  she  was,  first  of  all,  anxious  to 
treat  them  with  common  sense,  and  as  mucli  plain 
truth  as  might  be  fair  to  both  parties.  Tlie  perpetual 
emotion  in  whicli  Marcella  lived  tired  and  oppressed 
the  mother.  For  herself  she  asked  to  see  things  in 
a  dry  liglit.  Yet  she  knew  well  that  the  moment  was 
critical.  Her  feeling  was  more  mixed  tlian  it  had 
been.  On  tlie  wliole  it  was  indignantly  on  Aldous's 
side  —  with  (pialiiications  and  impatiences,  however. 


I 


MARCELLA. 


41 


sitting-room 

le  chair,  and 
ss   to  where 

—  ''I  think 
-  is  Marcella 
^enry  Whar- 


'So  far  as  I 
other  day." 

cerned  with 
3  behalf." 
fter  anotlier 
"that  since 
whole  views 
ps  vitally  — 

ons  of  this 
3avilled  that 
.  Now  that 
,  anxious  to 
much  plain 
lie  perpetual 
d  oppressed 
3e  things  in 
moment  was 
tlian  it  had 
on  Aldous's 
3S,  however. 


She  took  up  her  embroidery  again  before  she  an- 
swered hnn.  In  her  opinion  the  needle  is  to  the 
woman  wliat  the  cigarette  is  to  the  diplomatist. 

res,  certainly,"  slie  said  at  last.  "He  has  done 
a  great  deal  to  form  lier  opinions.  He  has  made  her 
both  read  and  think  on  all  tliose  subjects  she  has  so 
long  been  fond  of  talking  about." 

She  saw  Aldous  wince;  but  she  had  her  reasons  for 
being  i>lain  with  him. 

"Has  there  been  nothing  else  than  that  in  it? "  said 
Aldous,  in  an  odd  voice. 

Mrs.  Boyce  tried  no  evasions.     She  looked  at  him 
traiglit,  her  slight,  energetic  head,  with  its  pale  gold 
l'=i"-  lit  up  by  the  March  sun  behind  her  ^ 

reaArutir^'wrf  ;f '  '"'   '"^^^    ^''''^'  ^  '^^ 
leal  tiuth.     I  think  there  is  nothing  else.     But  let 

ine  tell  you  what  more  I  think  " 

Aldous  laid  his  hand  on  hers  for  an  instant.  In 
lis  pity  and  likmg  for  her  he  had  once  or  twice 
allowed  himself  this  quasi-filial  freedom.  " 

11  you  Avould,"  he  entreated. 

Sll'^rit"^""!^  ""^'^  -'--^~^or  the  present, 
^i  e  IS  not  herself  _  not  normal,  in  any  way  Nor 
will  she  be  till  this  dreadful  thing  is  oveT      Bu 

mri:r7-^«^-^-^-^tLto:;ov'" 

MS  It  con\a~-then  assert  yourself!  Ask  her  tint 
question  you  have  asked  me -and  get  your  a  3^'" 
He  understood.  Her  advice  to  him,';uid  th  to  ie 
o  t,  implied  that  she  Iiad  not  alwavs  thought  hi<  1  v 
"'  l'i«  powers  of  self-defence  in  th^nast      uJlf^ 

was  a  proud  mO  «ensifve  hviW  V    ?  *^"''*' 

-f.nsn.ve  luatinct  in  Jm,,  which  both 


ii      i 


42 


MARCELLA. 


lt   ,' 


told  him  that  he  could  not  havo  done  differently  and 
forbade  him  to  explain. 

"You  have  come  from  London  to-day?"  said  Mrs. 
Boyce,  changing  the  subject.  All  intimate  and  per- 
sonal conversation  was  distasteful  to  her,  and  she 
admitted  few  responsibilities.  Her  daughter  hardly 
counted  among  them. 

"Yes;  London  is  hard  at  work  cabinet-making,"  he 
said,  trying  to  smile.     "I  must  get  ba(;k  to-night." 

"I  don't  know  how  you  could  be  spared,"  said  Mrs. 
Boyce. 

He  paused;  then  he  broke  out:  "When  a  man  is  in 
the  doubt  and  trouble  I  am,  he  nuist  be  spared.  In- 
deed, since  the  night  of  tlie  trial,  I  feel  as  thougli  1 
had  been  of  very  little  use  to  any  human  being." 

He  spoke  simply,  but  every  word  touched  her. 
What  an  inconceivable  entanglement  the  whole  thing 
was!  Yet  she  was  no  longer  merely  conteni'  is 
of  it. 

"Look!  "  she  said,  lifting  a  bit  of  black  stuff  from 
the  ground  beside  the  chair  which  held  the  envelope; 
"  she  is  already  making  the  mourning  for  the  children. 
I  can  see  she  despairs." 

He  made  a  sound  of  horror. 

"Can  you  do  nothing?"  he  cried  reproachfully. 
"To  think  of  her  dAvelling  u])on  this  —  nothing  but 
t  liis,  day  and  night  —  and  I,  banished  and  powerless !  " 

He  buried  his  head  in  his  hands. 

"No,  I  can  do  nothing,"  said  Mrs.  Boyce,  deliber- 
ately. Then,  after  a  ])ause,  "  You  do  not  imagine 
there  is  any  chance  of  su(!cess  for  her?" 

He  looked  up  and  shook  his  head. 


MARCELLA. 


43 


ifPerently  and 

?  "  said  Mrs. 
late  and  per- 
Iier,  and  she 
ghter  hardly 

-making,"  he 
to-niglit." 
d,"  said  Mrs. 

n  a  man  is  in 
spared.  In- 
as  thougli  I 


I  being. 


» 


touched  her. 
!  whole  thing 
!ontem'       ;  is 

ik  stuff  from 
he  envelope; 
the  children. 


jproachfully. 

-nothing  but 

powerless ! " 

»yce,  deliber- 
not  imagine 


The  Radical  papers  are  full  of  it,  as  you  know 
■AVharton  is  managing  it  with  great  ability,  and  has 
got  some  good  supporters  in  the  House.     But  f  Irin- 
pened  to  see  the  judge  the  day  before  yesterday,  and 
I  certainly  gathered  from  him  that  the  Hom/officf. 
was  hkely  to  stand  firm.     There  may  be  some  d.lay' 
Ihe  new  ministry  will  not  kiss  hands  till  SaturdaV 
Lut  no  doubt  it  will  be  the  first  business  of  the  new 
Home  Secretaiy-.  _  By  the  way,  I  had  rather  Mar- 
eelladid  not  hear  of  my  seeing  Judge  Cartwright." 
he   added   hastily -almost    imjdoringly.      '-I    fould 
not  bear  that  she  should  suppose  —  " 

Mrs.  lioyce  thought  to  herself  indignantly  that  she 
never  could  have  imagined  such  a  man  in  such  a  plight' 
I  must  go,"  he  said,  rising.  ••  Will  you  teil'her 
from  me,  he  ad.led  slowly,  "that  I  could  never  hav. 
l^heved  she  would  be  so  unkind  as  to  let  m.  come 
down  trom  London  to  see  her,  and  send  me  away 
empty  —  without  a  wonl?  " 

'•Leave  it  to  my  discretion,"  said  Mrs.  BoycP 
smihng  an.l  looking  up.  ••  r>h,  by  the  way,  she  iold 
»ne  to  thank  you.  Mr.  Wharton,  m  his  l.tt.r  this 
morning,  mentioned  that  you  had  given  him  two  in- 
troductions which  were  important  t..  Imn.  8he  spe- 
•Maliy  wished  you  to  be  thank^-d  for  it  - 

tlnf  l^'p"'"'^'"'  ^^'^  ^  '''''  '^  ^^"f'^^^^^^^  '^'^^tempt 
that  Mrs    Boyce  was  genuinely  glad  to  hear.     In  her 

opinion  h.w.sniuch  too  apt  to  forget  that  the  world 
welds  itselt  only  to  the  -violent." 

He  walked  away  from  the  house  without  once  lo<.k- 
-K    Wk.       MarceHa.    from    h.r    window,    watched 


m 


44 


MARC  ELL  A. 


" How  cowM  she  see  him?"  she  asked  herself  pas- 
sionately, both  then  and  on  many  other  occasions 
during  these  rushing,  ghastly  days.  His  turn  would 
come,  and  it  should  be  amply  given  him.  But  noio 
the  very  thought  of  that  half-hour  in  Lord  Maxwell's 
library  threw  her  into  wild  tears.  The  time  for 
entreaty  —  for  argument  —  was  gone  by,  so  far  as  he 
was  concerned.  He  might  have  been  her  champion, 
and  would  not.  She  threw  herself  recklessly,  madly 
into  the  encouragement  and  support  of  the  man  who 
had  taken  up  the  task  which,  in  her  eyes,  should  have 
been  lier  lover's.  It  had  become  to  her  a  fight  —  with 
society,  with  the  law,  v/ith  Aldous  —  in  which  her 
whole  nature  was  absorbed.  In  the  course  of  the 
fight  she  had  realised  Aldous's  strength,  and  it  was 
a  bitter  offence  to  her. 

How  little  she  could  do  after  all!  She  gathered 
together  all  the  newspapers  tliat  were  debating  the 
case,  and  feverishly  read  every  line;  she  Avrote  to 
Wharton,  commenting  on  what  she  read,  and  on  his 
letters;  she  attended  the  meetings  of  the  Reprieve 
Committee  which  had  been  started  at  Widrington; 
and  she  passed  hours  of  every  day  with  Minta  Hurd 
and  her  children.  She  would  hardly  speak  to  Mary 
Harden  and  the  rector,  because  they  had  not  signed 
the  petition,  and  at  home  her  relations  with  her 
father  Avere  much  strained.  Mr.  Boyce  wa^  awaken- 
ing to  a  good  deal  of  alarm  as  to  how  things  might 
end.  He  might  not  like  the  Raeburns,  but  that  any- 
thing shouhl  (Hime  in  the  way  of  liis  daughter's  match 
was,  notwithstanding,  the  very  last  thing  in  tlie 
world,  as  he  soon  discovered,  that  he  really  desired. 


MARt'ELLA. 


45 


herself  pas- 
?r  occasions 

turn  would 
I.  But  nov) 
d  Maxwell's 
le  time  for 
so  far  as  lie 
r  champion, 
issly,  madly 
tie  man  who 
should  have 
fight  —  with 

which  her 
irse  of  the 

and  it  was 

be  gathered 
ebating  the 
e  wrote  to 
and  on  his 
le  Reprieve 
Vidrington ; 
^inta  Hurd 
ik  to  Mary 
not  signed 
3  Avith  her 
a^  awaken- 
ings might 
t  that  any- 
ter's  match 
ing  in  tlie 
llv  desired. 


During  SIX  months  he  liad  taken  it  for  granted;  so  had 
the  county.  Ho,  of  all  men,  could  not  afford  to  be 
made  ridiculous,  apart  from  the  solid, 'the  extraordi- 
nary advantages  of  tlie  matter.  He  tliought  Mar- 
cella  a  foolish,  unreasonable  girl,  and  was  not  the 
less  in  a  panic  because  his  wife  let  him  understand 
tliat  he  had  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  it.  So  that 
between  him  and  his  daughter  there  were  now  con- 
stant sparrings  -  sparrings  which  degraded  Marcella 
m  her  own  eyes,  and  contributed  not  a  little  to  make 
her  keep  away  from  homo. 

Tlie  one  place  where  she   breathed   freely,  where 
the  soul    had    full    course,    was   in    Minta    Hurd's 
kitchen.     Side  by  side   with  that  piteous  plaintive 
misery,  her  own  fierceness  dwindled.     She  would  sit 
with  little  Willie  on  her  knees  in  the  dusk  of  the 
spring  evenings,    looking  into   the   fire,   and   crying 
silently.     She  never  suspected  that  lier  presence  was 
often  a  burden  and  constraint,  not  only  to  the  sulky 
sister-in-law  but  to  the  wife  herself.      While    Miss 
Boyce  was  there  the  village  kept  away;  and  Mrs 
Hurt!  was  sometimes  athirst,  Avitliout  knowing  it,  for 
homelier  speech  and  simpler  consolations  than  anv 
iMarcella  could  give  her. 

The  last  week  arrived.  Wliarton's  letters  grew 
more  uncertain  and  despondent;  the  Radical  press 
lought  on  with  added  heat  as  the  cause  became  more 
desperate.  On  Monday  the  wife  went  to  see  the 
condemned  man,  who  told  her  not  to  be  so  silly  as  to 
imagine  there  was  any  hope.  Tuesday  night,  Whar- 
ton asked  his  last  question  in  Parliament.  Friday 
was  the  day  fixed  fur  the  execution. 


I 


46 


MARC  ELL  A, 


The  question  in  Parlicament  came  on  late.  The 
Home  Secretary's  answer,  tliough  not  final  in  form, 
was  final  in  substance.  Wharton  went  out  immedi- 
ately and  wrote  to  ^[arcella.  "  She  will  not  sleep  if  I 
telegraph  to-night,"  he  thought,  with  that  instinct  for 
'letail,  especially  for  physical  detail,  which  had  in  it 
something  of  the  woman.  But,  knowing  that  his 
letter  could  not  reach  her  by  the  early  post  with  the 
stroke  of  eight  next  morning,  he  sent  out  his  tele- 
gram, that  she  might  not  learn  the  news  first  from 
the  papers. 

Marcella  had  wandered  out  before  breakfast,  feeling 
the  house  an  oi)pression,  and  knowing  that,  one  way 
or  another,  the  last  news  might  reach  her  any  hour. 

She  had  just  passed  through  the  little  wood  behind 
and  alongside  of  tlie  house,  and  was  in  a  field  beyond, 
when  she  heard  some  one  running  behind  her.  Wil- 
liam handed  her  the  telegram,  his  own  red  face  full 
of  understanding.  IMarcella  took  it,  commanded  her- 
self till  the  boy  was  out  of  sight  and  hearing  again, 
then  sank  down  on  the  grass  to  read  it. 

"All  over.  The  Home  Secretary's  official  refusal 
to  interfere  with  sentence  sent  to  Widrington  to-day. 
Accept  my  sorrow  and  sympathy." 

She  crushed  it  in  her  hand,  raising  her  head  me- 
chanically. Before  her  lay  that  same  shallow  cup  of 
ploughed  land  stretching  from  her  father's  big  wood 
to  the  downs,  on  the  edge  of  which  Hurd  had  plied 
his  ferrets  in  the  winter  nights.  But  to-day  the 
spring  Avorked  in  it,  and  breathed  upon  it.  The 
young  corn  was  already  green  in  the  furrows;  the 
hazel-catkins  quivered  in  the  hedge  above  her:  larks 


MAHCELLA. 


47 


I  late.  The 
nal  in  form, 
out  immedi- 
lot  sleep  if  I 
b  instinct  for 
ch  had  in  it 
ng  that  his 
lost  with  the 
Diit  his  tele- 
fs  first  from 

cfast,  feeling 
lat,  one  way 
any  hour, 
wood  behind 
ield  beyond, 
.  her.  Wil- 
ed face  full 
inanded  her- 
iring  agaii). 

icial  refusal 
gton  to-day. 

?r  head  me- 
illow  cup  of 
's  big  wood 
i  had  plied 

to-day  the 
1  it.  The 
rrows ;    the 

her :   larks 


wore  ,n  the  ,ur,  ,la,s„..s  i„  tl,„  «,,,«.,,  ,„„1  the  mareh 
of  sunny  cIo„,  s  coul.l  l,e  .seen  in  tl„.  «,.;„«  shadows 
hey  flung  on  the  pale  j-veens  and  sheeny  nui-ples  of 
the  wide  treeless  basin.  ^ 

Human  helplessness,  human   agony -set  against 
l.e  careless  joy  of  nature  -  there  is  no  new  way  „ 

lf\  t  n  ',  ""P"'""*  I'^^'^'o"  """i  ™t"y  ,;hieh 
hUed  Mareella's  heart  at  this  mon.ent,  is  never  to 
have  risen  to  the  full  stature  of  our  kind. 

that  you  do  not  go  out  to  the  village  to-night." 
I  must  go,  papa." 
It  was  Thursday  night  -the  night  before  the  Fri- 
day morning  hxed  for  Kurd's  execution.     J)i„ne,  at 

"    f.ont  ot  the  hre,  unconsciously  n,aking  the  most 

■  t  his  stately  d,aughter.  She  ha<l  not  appeared  -ft 
dmner,  and  she  wa.  now  dressed  in  the  W  Wack 
c  oak  and  black  hat  she  ha4  worn  so  constantly  i  «' 
List  few  weeks.     Mr.  Koyce  detested  the  garb 

Pitv  f "  T  "'■''''""    ^"'"'"^^   ridiculous,    Mareella 
l-ity  lor  these  wretched  people  is  all  ve  y  well   but 

J  on -and  we -become  the  talk,  tlie  laughing-stock 
of  the  county.     And  I  should  like  to  see  you    too 

XT  "''"'""'  '"  ^'"""^  «-"-"'^  f-'-Sa  Ind 
made  !,er    laugu,    u    she  could    have 


48 


MARC  ELLA. 


liiugliod    at    anything.      Hut,    instoad,    sli..    only   ro- 
lK'at«Ml : 

'•  1  must  go,  I  have  explained  to  niiuiinia." 
'•  Evelyn  !  why  do  you  j)ennit  it?"  cried  Mr.  Hoyce, 
turning  aggressively  to  his  wife. 

"Mareella  explained  to  me,  as  sh(5  truly  said,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  Boyee,  looking  up  ealmly.  »' Jt'is  not  her 
habit  to  ask  permission  of  any  one." 

"Mamma,"  ex(dainied  the  girl,  in  her  deep  voice, 
"you  would  not  wish  to  stop  me?" 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  ]5„yee,  after  a  ])anse,  "no.  You 
have  gone  so  far,  I  understand  your  Avish  to  do  this. 
Richard,"  —  she  got  up  and  went  to  him, —  ''don't 
excite  yourself  about  it;  shall  I  read  to  you,  or  play 
a  game  with  you  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her,  trembling  with  anger.  But  her 
qniet  eye  warned  him  that  he  had  lia.l  th.'eatenings 
of  pain  that  afternoon.  His  anger  sank  into  fear. 
He  became  once  more  irritable  and  abject. 

"Let  her  gang  her  gait,"  he  said,  throwing  himself 
into  a  chair.  "  But  I  tell  you  I  shall  not  put  up  with 
this  kind  of  thing  much  longer,  Marcella." 

'vl  shall  not  ask  you,  papa,"  she  said  steadily,  as 
she  moved  towards  the  door.  Mrs.  Boyce  paused 
where  she  stood,  and  looked  after  her  daughter,  struck 
by  her  words.  Mr.  l^oyce  simply  took  them  as  refer- 
rnig  to  the  jnarriage  which  would  emancipate  her  be- 
fore long  from  any  control  of  his,  and  fumed,  without 
finding  a  reply, 

The  maid-servant  who,  by  Mrs.  Boyce's  orders, 
was  to  accompany  Marcella  to  the  village,  was 
already  at  the  front  door.     She  carried  a  basket  con- 


M ARC  EL  LA. 


she    only    ro- 

nia." 

it'<l  Mr.  Boyce, 

■nily  said,"  m- 
'  It  is  not  lufr 

T  (I(Hip  voice, 

\e,  "no.  You 
^li  to  do  this, 
lim,  —  "don't 
)  you,  or  play 

?er.     But  her 

.  threatonintrs 

nk  into  fear. 

t. 

•wing  himself 

t  put  up  with 

d  steadily,  as 
■Joyce  paused 
ighter,  struck 
hem  as  refer- 
ipate  her  be- 
ined,  without 

yce's   orders, 

village,    was 

I  basket  con- 


49 


tanning  i„vali„  ioo..  for  little  W.ll,,,  ,.„„  a  ,i«,,ted 

tlie  hall  to  her.  "'^'  """«■■  ""O"" 

^iX  t^ll  In  ."^«'''"^''"  ■'''"'' '-of  'He 

a,™*"  ""'  "^  "'•""   <"    ''-    «-  —   Marcella'., 
"  Your  father  is  quite  right,"  she  went  on      "  Vn„ 
have  had  one  horrible  experience  to-day  .^1"^-" 

on  t  „,a„.,na.  "  exclaimed  Marcella,  inLrupt- 
hir-tther     ™  """™'^  ^"^  "^^^  ^er  arn.s  rou'nd 
"Kiss  me,  mamma!  please  kiss  me"' 

lou  are  extraordinarilv  wilf,,!  "    u     '  •  , 

Marcelhi's  1  p  quivered      ^hc  .     n        ''^ 
patently.      Waving  Zhal'd  to  "h    ""'  T^'  ^P" 
joined  the  maid  waiting  for  her  and  Ihe'Ti  •  ''"' 
peated  into  the  blackness.  "  ''"''?" 

"But  rfora  it  do  any  good'-"'  \rr«   R„ 
to  herself  as  she  went  baTk  to  H     "^f^ "". ''^P^^ted 
-Synixuhj!  w-h„  was  eve,  w  f  >  drawng-room. 

i'y  »««%.'    1  eel  a  ,0  ft  T'  """'''  '"""^°^'^'' 

thin^r  that  fH=    h-  -^n     ,  "'  "■"'"•''"  "*  ««'  only 

vol  , 71,       ""'""  '^'"'«  »"°'"d  want  at  such  a 


'sam 


50 


MAIiCKLLA 


iiHnncut  — s()lit,ii(l(>.      Why  slioiild   \v(>    io\r,v.    (»ii    the 
poor  what  to  us  would  he  ;in  outiM^M''.'" 

Mciunvhilo  iMarcclla  battled  throu^di  the  wind  a,n(l 
rain,  thankful  that  tht>  warm  spring  hurst  wus  over, 
and  that  tlic  skios  no  longer  niocktMl  this  horror  which 
was  luMieath  them. 

At  the  entraiiee  to  tlie  village  hIio  stopped,  and 
took  th(>  ')ask(>t  from  the  little  maid. 

"  Xow,  liuth,  you  can  go  home.      Run  quick,  it  is 
so  dark,  Kutu !  " 
"Yes,  miss." 

The  young  country  girl  trembled.  Miss  Boyce's 
tragic  passion  in  this  nuittor  had  to  some  extent 
infected  the  whole  household  in  which  she  lived. 

"  Kuth,  wluMi  you  sa,y  your  prayers  to-night,  pray 
God  to  comfort  the  poor,— and  to  punish  the  cruel!  " 
"Yes,  miss,"  said  the  girl,  timidly,  and  ready  to 
cry.  The  lantern  she  held  flashed  its  light  on  Miss 
Boyce's  white  face  and  tall  form.  Till  lun-  mistress 
turned  away  she  did  not  dare  to  move;  that  dark  eye, 
so  wide,  full,  aucl  living,  roused  in  her  a  kiml  of 
terror. 

On  the  steps  of  the  cottage  Marcella  ])aused.  She 
heard  voices  inside  —  or  rather  the  rector's  voice 
reading. 

A  thought  of  scorn  rose  in  her  heart.  "  How  long 
will  the  poor  endure  this  religion —  this  make-believe 
—  which  preaches  patience,  2)atieiice !  when  it  ought 
to  be  urging  war?  " 

But  she  went  in  softly,  so  as  not  to  interrupt.  The 
rector  looked  up  and  made  a  grave  sign  of  the  head 
a-s  she  entered;  her  own  gesture  forbade   any  other 


lorcc    on    lUv 

tlif  wind  jiiid 
irst  was  ()V(M*, 
i  horror  which 

stopju'd,   and 

II  qui(^k,  it-  is 


Miss  Boyco's 
some  extent 
he  lived, 
lo-niglit,  pray 
1  tlie  cruel !  " 
ind  ready  to 
ight  on  Miss 
lier  mistress 
hat  dark  eye, 
r   a  kind   of 

paused.     She 
ector's    voice 

"HoAv  lonf:j 
make-believe 
hen  it  ought 

3rrupt.     The 

of  the  head 

e   any  other 


MA  lu;  ELL  A. 


6^ 


movement    in    the   'm-out.-    «i      4     , 

Willi,.,  ,vi,o«„  „.*:»   u  ,f :; ."  '*""'  '"■"'"•■ 

witi,  weeping.     Cft     '  tl,'      ':  '"!"'  ""■■  «^-  -" 

'■'«  Test.,„e„t  i„  :ri  rrn^r  :rr  '^'•*"^' 

■'  sl.arp  ,,lu„Iow  o„  the  cottage  ;  VJ'^"'.  ""'" 
'"mself  so  as  to  screen  the  el  ,■  ,  "''  '''''"■'"' 
fron,  the  wife's  eyes    a„,  1  ,   ^^'"  "'  ""'  '''"'P 

ove,.  a  ci.air  to  C,' TlZ  Z^^"^^'  "r  '""■''' 
mother  and  child  sat  An,,  v  i-  ""■  ""t"'*'™ 
to  and  fro  over  he  fir^  '  i  ™'  "^^'"^  ''"^-^'f 
ti".e-asha„ele,ss„Il  n';      /'■"""'"^'  '■■"'"  «">«  *" 

«'"Mren  and'  n,  S,  p       .r':?'  T"'"''^""  "''  "'^"^ 
often  impatient.  '  ~  "'  "''""  -'^^••"■'^^"a  was 

■'«.'/  nn,o  thee    To-aa      "Lfan     ,  """"""''    ^'"'"-  ' 
Use."  "  "'"'"  "'°"  t"'  ^'■■'th  Me  in  p„„. 

Tile  rfinf/ir'Q    "r-i- 

"    voae,  u,,ts  awed  monotony,  dwelt 


62 


MARCELLA. 


insistently  on  otich  word,  tlu«n  pjuisrd.  "  7V)-f/ay," 
whispered  Mary,  (caressing  Miuta's  hand,  while  the 
tears  streamed  (h)wn  her  eheeks;  '•  he  repented,  Minta, 
and  the  Lord  took  him  to  Himself  — at  onoe  —  for' 
giving  all  his  sins." 

Mrs.  lliird  gave  no  sign,  but  the  dark  Hgure  on  the 
other  side  of  the  eottago  made  an  involuntary  move- 
ment, which  threw  down  a  Hre-iron,  and  sent  a  start 
through  Willie's  wasted  body.  The  reader  resumed; 
but  perfect  spontaneity  was  somehow  lost  both  for  him 
and  for  Mary.  MarceUa's  stormy  i)resence  worked  in 
them  botli,  like  a  troubling  leaven. 

Nevertheless,  the  priest  went  steadily  through  his 
duty,  d  elling  on  every  pang  of  the  Passion,  putting 
together  every  sacred  ami  sublime  word.  For  cen- 
turies on  centuries  his  bretluvn  and  forerunners  had 
held  np  the  AFan  of  Sorrows  before  the  anguisJied  and 
the  dying;  his  turn  had  (^onie,  his  moment  and  place 
in  the  marvellous  never-ending  task;  he  accepted  it 
with  the  meek  ardour  of  an  undoubting  faith. 

''And  all  the  multitudes  that  came  together  to  this 
sight,  when  they  beheld  the  things  that  were  done,  re- 
turned, smiting  their  breasts. " 

He  closed  the  book,  and  bent  forward,  so  as  to  bring 
his  voice  close  to  the  wife's  ear. 

"  So  He  died  —  the  Sinless  and  the  Just  —  for  you, 
for  your  husband.  He  has  passed  through  death  — 
through  cruel  death;  and  where  He  has  gone,  we  poor, 
weak,  stained  sinners  can  follow,— holding  to  Him! 
No  sin,  however  black,  can  divide  us  from  Him,  can 
tear  us  from  His  hand  in  the  dark  waters,  if  it  be 
only   repented,— thrown  upon    His   Cross.     Let  us 


MAHVKLLA. 


58 


Mulli„»  ,,„!,,„,,  loudl't  i   AH     t.    T"'    "'  """" 
she  i,n.yed,  lost  i„  ..  n.vsH,    1       ^  ''""  ""1'*   "" 

->!■  a^,,,.;  ti,;  - 1 ",:';',:  •"■  "-^  j-"  «"..- 

11  tl,e  crim,.,'^,  """'""'"'''  "'"«  heap 

-V  "-t.oyi,!,,  a,ul  !<        g,   ::.:?r; T'f  "■''  "" 
""tl'i.%'  bi-tte,.  u,  do  ,nt),  t   '  ,       ^,  '""""  "'■ 

l'ave,„aae„„tcust."  ""^  tl.e.uselves 

And  she  hardened  her  heart. 

'"  the  nudsr:f^,xrT,.r;;'''"  t"  "■•^  ^"'"■>- 

unclose.  He  looked  w  h  a  s  of'r  ."  '"^'^  -^^"^ 
liis  mother  and  th„  ""'"  ^°"  .<>'  ''emote  won.ler  at 

something.  Her  eve  fnll„!  .T""""*!  ''«  'SouKht  for 
in  the  shado"be  fde  Mm  :^  '7  ""'  '"*'  '"""™'l 
hehind  the  ron„l,  .„  '  ,         ^'■'''""'  "'"''''  P'a<=ed 

Wm,  the    onr  tt  -  '"■""'7'"*  '>»<!  I'^en  n,aie  for 

ton  ha.;  o,!:  v:  ,:;d""t„:L"""'T"  "="-■■•  "■'- 

-ved  the  Cairai;    ;  fova^Tll"" '"'"^^'^ ''»" 


64 


MARCELLA. 


tliem  better.  The  child  with  difficulty  turned  his 
wasted  head,  and  lay  with  his  skeleton  hand  under 
his  cheek,  staring  at  his  treasures  —  his  little  all  — 
with  just  a  gleam,  a  faint  gleam,  of  that  same  exqui- 
site content  which  had  fascinated  Wharton.  Then, 
for  the  first  time  that  day,  Marcella  could  have  wept. 

At  last  tlie  rector  and  his  sister  rose. 

"God  be  with  you,  Mrs.  Hurd,"  said  Mr.  Harden, 
stooping  to  lier;  "God  support  you!  " 

His  voice  trembled.  Mrs.  Hurd  in  bewilderment 
looked  up. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Harden!"  she  cried  with  a  sudden  wail. 
"Mr.  Harden!" 

Mary  bent  over  her  with  tears,  trying  to  still  her, 
speaking  again  with  quivering  lips  of  "the  dear  Lord, 
the  Saviour." 

The  i-ector  turned  to  Marcella. 

"You  are  staying  the  night  with  her?"  he  asked, 
under  liis  breath. 

"Yes.  Mrs.  Mullins  Avas  up  all  last  night.  I 
offered  to  come  to-night." 

"  You  went  with  her  to  the  prison  to-day,  I  believe"  " 

"Yes." 

"  Did  you  see  Hurd?  " 

"  For  a  very  few  minutes." 

"Did  you  hear  anything  of  his  state  of  mind?"  he 
asked  anxiously.     "  Is  he  penitent?  " 

"He  talked  to  me  of  Willie,"  she  said  — a  fiercu' 
luiuuiniu'ss  in  her  unfriendly  eyes.  "I  promised  him 
that  wlien  the  child  died,  ho  should  be  buried  re- 
spectably—not by  the  ])arish.  And  I  told  m  1 
would  always  look  iifter  the  little  girls." 


r     n' 


MAJiCELLA. 


65 


Mr.  Harden, 


lewildermeiit 


sudden  wail. 


The  rector  sighed.     He  move.I  away.     Then  unex- 
pectedly he  came  back  again. 

"I  must  say  it  to  yon,"  he  said  iirmly,  but  still  ,0 
owas  not  to  be  heard  by  any  one  elsf'inlh  'cot- 
ton; 1.      t\  '"  '^"""^  ■''  8'-eat  responsibility  here 
to-n.ght.     Lot  me  implore  yon  not  to  fill  thai  lor 
woman  w,tl,  thoughts  of  bitterness  and  re  vie  a 

elofy  3  "■^!;'"".-";"'  to  --bntaskyonrse  t! 

misc'l-reiH  '  •'  ''''"  *"  ^'  '»^Il'-»lthro„gh  he 

miseiy,  either  now  or  in  the  future  oxeent  Iw  ,Z- 
™.I  submission  to  the  will  „f  (.;;,';;  ,';'"^''P*  V  pat.enee 

He  had  never  n.ade  so  long  a  speech  to  this  for- 

fron,  that  sort  of  n.oral  con.pnlsion  which  W,  ^li.t  ! 

ha  hateful  opnuon  of  his,  which  Mary  had  eportd' 
hail  broken  the  spell  once  for  all  ■""epu'ted, 

Mary  did  not  venture  to  kiss  her  friend  Tl  1, 
-nt.      Ann  Mullins,   who  was  d,  ;;t  a     ll' 

.sp™atl.nighthere:audtakt::r::fyon         Se" 
Al.».  Hnrd  gave  a  painful  start. 

"ve,^^:,.™':!;,«!;:i"''»:;.';»':-:'^';'.'-"-™--..«iy, 

"•"ouisA„n::his;;wu;::i.:;;:,;;-r;:t"™'' 


■■■ 


56 


MARCELLA. 


The  two  women  chmg  together,  the  rough,  ill- 
tempered  sister-in-law  muttering  what  soothing  she 
could  think,  of.  When  she  was  gone,  Minta  Hurd 
turned  her  face  to  the  back  of  the  settle  and  moaned, 
her  hands  clenched  under  her  breast. 

Marcella  went  about  her  preparations  for  the  night. 
"She  is  extremely  weak,"  Dr.  Clarke  had  said;  "the 
heart  in  such  a  state  she  may  die  of  syncope  on  very 
small  provocation.  If  she  is  to  spend  the  night  in 
crying  and  exciting  herself,  it  will  go  hard  with  her. 
Get  her  to  sleep  if  you  possibly  can." 

And  he  had  left  a  sleeping  draught.  Marcella  re- 
solved that  she  would  persuade  her  to  take  it.  "  But 
1  will  wake  her  before  eight  o'clock,"  she  thought. 
"  No  human  being  has  the  right  to  rob  her  of  herself 
through  that  last  hour." 

And  tenderly  she  coaxed  Minta  to  take  the  doctor's 
"medicine."  Minta  swallowed  it  submissively,  ask- 
ing no  questions.  But  the  act  of  taking  it  roused  her 
for  the  time,  and  she  would  talk.  She  even  got  up 
and  tottered  across  to  Willie. 

"  Willie!  —  Willie!  —  Oh!  look,  miss,  he's  got  his 
animals  —  he  don't  think  of  nothing  else.  Oh,  Willie  I 
won't  you  think  of  your  father?  —  you'll  never  have 
a  father,  Willie,  not  after  to-night!  " 

The  boy  was  startled  by  her  appearance  there  beside 
him  — his  haggard,  dishevelled  mother,  with  the 
dews  of  perspiration  s;  ending  on  the  face,  and  her 
black  dress  thrown  open  at  the  throat  and  breast  for 
air.  He  looked  at  her,  and  a  little  frown  lined  the 
white  brow,  liut  he  did  not  speak.  Marcella  thought 
he  was  too  weak  to  speak,  and  for  an  instant  it  struck 


MAUCELLA. 


e  rough,  ill- 
soothing  she 
Minta  Hurd 
and  moaned, 

for  the  night, 
d  said;  "the 
cope  on  very 
the  night  in 
»rd  with  her. 

Marcella  re- 
ie  it.  "But 
she  thought. 
31'  of  herself 

the  doctor's 
ssively,  ask- 
it  roused  her 
even  got  up 

he's  got  his 
Oh,  Willie! 
never  have 

there  beside 
',  with  the 
ice,  and  lier 
i  breast  for 
n  lined  the 
ella  thought 
mt  it  struck 


57 


her  with  a  thrill  of  girlisli  fear  thnf  h. 
and  there  -  that  iL/  \T\  ''^'''  ^^'""^  *^^^" 

iiad  half  helped  ir  If  f  ~"  t  ^'"'-  ^'^*  ^^  ^^"  '^^^ 
again,  and  ud  ttt Id  to  h  ^  T'  """•'  '^^^  '^  ^^^ 
he  seemed  aslee        T  L  .^^^ 

-ueh  the  same  as  it  had  bet  W:^^^^^^  '"^^^  -- 
herself.  ^  ^^^^5  she  reassured 

And  at  last  the  wife  slenf-  rc^r^  'v\. 
he.-.  The  aclung  ,i„"3Teirx  .  'TT"*'"  ^"^'''' 
Marcella,  storing  ov«  1  e  T '  ''',  ,  ""  *"'  "«"• 
ha.-  dress  fe  ™^y^„;  30  J^trr  ""  ^""""'''-  "' 
thewatoLerwasthesuu:/;  f  ?  ^r'""  """  "' 
"f  anguish.  "  '"  *''^  '<»»g  activity 

and  the'         :"     r  LrrT'Tr""'  *"  ""^  ■"«"' 
>'"t  yet  ten.     She  lid  ,         w     f™'""^  *'"'*  ^' ^^ 

A  fi-PHin..         ^  '  ^^  ^^y  unopened. 

tl'ougl.  sl.e  had  b^^^np  «"«..:":""  ^'"^'"■^''' 
cloak.  ^     ""  ^"'^^   ^^^  put  on  her 

the^fiel'i;;:  ";;;* '™';""'  ""»*^^  ^''-^  ->j 

«ac.kli„g  ;f    he t!  "f  "',""   '■""'■^"  <"»*,  the 


68 


MARCEL  LA. 


panes  into  the  night  without  at  first  seeing  anything. 
Then  there  flashed  out  upon  tlie  dark  the  door  of  a 
public-house  to  the  right,  the  last  in  the  village  road. 
A  man  came  out  stumbling  and  reeling;  the  light 
within  streamed  out  an  instant  on  the  road  and  the 
common;  then  the  pursuing  rain  and  darkness  fell 
upon  him. 

She  was  drawing  back  when,  with  sudden  horror, 
she  perceived  something  else  close  beside  her,  pressing 
against  the  window.  A  woman's  face !  —  the  power- 
ful black  and  white  of  it  —  the  strong  aquiline  fea- 
tures —  the  mad  keenness  of  the  look  were  all  plain 
to  her.  The  eyes  looked  in  liungrily  at  the  prostrate 
form  on  the  settle  —  at  the  sleeping  child.  Another 
figure  appeared  out  of  the  dark,  running  up  the  path. 
There  was  a  slight  scufHe,  and  voices  outside.  Mar- 
cella  drew  tlie  curtain  close  with  a  hasty  hand,  and 
sat  down  hardly  able  to  breathe.  The  woman  who 
had  looked  in  was  Isabella  Westall.  It  was  said  that 
she  was  becoming  mor(3  and  more  difticult  to  manage 
and  to  watch. 

Marcella  was  some  time  in  recovering  herself. 
That  look,  as  of  a  sleepless,  hateful  eagerness,  clung 
to  the  memory.  Once  or  twice,  as  it  haunted  her, 
she  got  up  again  to  make  sure  that  the  door  was 
fast. 

The  incident,  with  all  it  suggested,  did  but  intensify 
the  horror  and  struggle  in  which  the  girl  stood,  made 
her  mood  more  strained,  more  piercingly  awake  and 
alert.  Gradually,  as  the  hours  passed,  us  all  sounds 
from  without,  even  tliat  of  the  wind,  died  away,  and 
the  silence  settled  round  her  in  ever-widening  circles 


MA  li  CELL  A. 


ng  anything, 
lie  door  of  a 
village  road, 
g;  the  light 
'oad  and  the 
larkness  fell 

iden  horror, 
lier,  pressing 
-  the  power- 
Kpiiline  fea- 
3re  all  plain 
he  prostrate 
d.  Another 
up  the  path, 
bside.  Mar- 
:y  hand,  and 
woman  who 
,'as  said  that 
b  to  manage 

ng  Jierself. 
rness,  clung 
aunted  her, 
le  door  was 

mt  intensify 
stood,  made 
'  awake  and 
!  all  sounds 
1  away,  and 
ling  circles, 


59 


^  ™'  ^^'  t^o,  is  probably  asleen  "  ^1,p  f  k  i,. 
remembering  some  information  wh''k!^i!^'"^f*' 
Iiad  given  lier  in  i  f^w  ,•    i  !?        «^"it]Iy  warder 

wiui:  .„e  was';:,  .^  :t^,:j  -»-»'  -■'"-, 

MintaHurd.     "  [i.oredfl.lM      f  "'"  *'"'"'  fl- 

utes left -so  fa,    r  ""'y  """^yl.ours,  min- 

-  against  tl,«  noj,  of    efH   'r  ""  "'"""""^ 

tl.e,u  i„  slee,,,  in  tl,a'    wl,  ~;"' '^  "'-;™»t™ 

ease  and  repair  of  tl...    .  ■.      .  ^      '""*  *"''  "'e 

,  'ejiau  ot  tlie  daily  stniircrlr.      A„,i\i-  » 
her  Imsband  is  hpf  all      J,       *"    ,    ^'"1 '^'n'ta  — 

-t'>ereisttCL::':t~,'™;;'^ 
are  we  here  — w1...  o.     n  ""  "ignity!     Oh,  why 

i.ate  good  :eo,;e'^kroiarf::7/"r''^ '^  «>--'» 
-ft-  ail  I  eo'nid  .i^^^^:':.^:;:^^^^- -' 

I  can  never  help?     l  onnnnf  i  .i     -^  "'^"^^^^  «ver  i)ain 

sake  it;  it  drives    •' ''^""^^V^    ^  '*'  ^'*  ^  '^""°<^  for- 
i',  ir,  (luves.  It  clings  to  me!" 

fehe  sat  over  til p  fivo   av,-it  >    , 

«'->  and  ^Tz^,^;i^^;:^^^:r' 

-:i^:::;;r:^;;i;;:-r---""4:.t 

-«  powers  wiH^^HriLr  "'''■"'''  •^'■<"^'"- 
"ohly  dowered.  He  e  L"  IfT  ,'"  '"'.H'  ^ 
..u.«.ving..     He  .as  at  ease  wl    rs t    a      ,r"  "" 


60 


MARCELLA. 


Little  piteous  hand!  — its  touch  was  to  her  sym- 
bolic, imperative. 

Eight  months  had  sl^e  heen  at  Mellor?  And  that 
Marcella,  who  had  been  luhig  and  moving  amid  these 
woods  and  lanet:  vM  this  time  -~  that  foolish  girl,  de- 
liglitiug  in  new  grandeurs,  a5!d  Mattered  by  Aldous 
Kaeburii's  attentions  —  that  1,'jt,  ambitious  person 
wlio  liad  meant  to  rule  a  county  through  a  husband  — 
wiui'r  had  become  of  her?  Up  to  the  night  of  Kurd's 
deatii  sentence  she  had  ctiil  existed  in  some  sort, 
with  her  obligations,  quabas,  remorses.  But  since 
then— .e^^ery  day,  evi-ry  hour  had  been  grinding, 
scorching  her  awax  —  fashioning  in  Hame  and  fever 
this  new  Marcella  who  sat  here,  looking  impatiently 
into  another  life,  which  should  know  nothing  of  the 
bonds  of  the  old. 

Ah,  yes!— -her  thought  could  distinguish  between 
tlie  act  and  th ^  man,  between  the  man  and  his  class; 
but  in  her  feding  all  was  confounded.  This  aAvful 
growth  of  sympathy  in  her  —  strange  irony!  — had 
made  all  symptithy  for  Aldous  Kaeburn  impossible 
to  her.  Marry  him?  — no!  no!  — never!  But  she 
would  make  it  quite  easy  to  him  to  give  her  up. 
Pride  should  come  in  — he  should  feel  no  pain  in 
doing  it.  She  had  in  her  pocket  the  letter  she  had 
received  from  him  that  afternoon.  She  had  hardly 
been  able  to  read  it.  Ear  and  heart  were  alike  dull 
to  it. 

From  time  to  time  she  probably  slept  in  her  chair. 
Or  else  it  was  the  perpetual  rusli  of  images  and  sen- 
sations through  the  mind  that  hastened  the  hours. 
Once  when  the  tirst  streaks  of  tlie  March  dawn  were 


MARCELLA. 


to  her  sym- 

?  And  that 
g  amid  these 
iish  girl,  de- 
l  by  Aldous 
LOUS  person 
I  husband  — 
it  of  Kurd's 
I  some  sort, 
But  since 
n  grinding, 
le  and  fever 
impatiently 
;hing  of  the 

ish  between 

d  his  class; 

This  awful 

L-ony !  —  had 

impossible 

•!     But   she 

Lve  her  up. 

no  pain   in 

ter  she  had 

had  hardly 

3  alike  dull 

I  her  chair. 
es  and  sen- 

the   hours. 

dawn  were 


sho 


show 


ing  through  the  curtains  M 


61 


with  a  loud  ci 


mta,  JIurd  sprang  up 


a 


Oh 


'^  ^Y  C^od!     Jim,  Jiyn,    oj^ 


off.     Oh,  please    sir       !  .  '  "ol-take  that 

,  Please,  sir,   please!      Uh,   for   (WP^  eoi,. 


sir!" 


Agony  struggled  with   sleep. 


for  God's  sake, 

ing,  held  a„d7o„t"hed",;;'.3-  fnf  "'"f  f'  ^'""'"'■'- 
rather  the  drug  i„  her  ve 'n  l  l'"""  "'"'''•  "' 
another  hour  or  two  .t       ''  *"""'*"''  ^Sain.     Vnv 

«ide  to  side,"i,:;;„::.,::;jf  -^^"^^"^ '--« '^ 

Willie  hardly  moved  all  r,in.K<.       a      • 
Maroella  hehl  'Lef-         "  Zt'^  \^''  -"'  "8-" 
tried  to  rouse  him  to  f,ke  if       .    t  ™"'"''   *"•' 

impression  on  thT ,  Ls  ^  , >  '  "'.f '',  «'".'"  '"'*«  - 
of  the  bro.  never  changed  '""*■'  '"'""''^ 

3a':h::::'h::i:4taSu  '°r  ™-^  -• 

was  streaming  throufhTe  J,   f';   '^  ""^'^  "slit 
glowing;  butl.er  Zk  '"""'  «>e  tire  was  still 

hersha'l  «  esolr"?  ''"'  ^""  "'""«'  ""^er 
Her  shaking  Wet ::S,"''i,'7''V'--'>''-S  ""  '-• 
in  lier  belt.  "*""^  ''™^'  "»'  «'«  wateh 

y«i  minutes  to  eight  ' 

I'ands.  The  mother  t.^  m u^  ""'■"  ™"  ""'"8  ^er 
■'»'  yet  fully  awake  a^'w'n'  ";"  """■'"^'  >"" 
Hardly  knowrW  J,,!'.,         ^™'"'   '''^  *«    brfo-'e. 

curtains  back  a?  tl™  ,  "'^  ''°'"»'  ^''^  '^'^^  «« 
thelight      Ti;e  a  tf    ."?"?*'""  '"'S'"  <=»■»«  "ith 

water  drppedlaviivr     I?' '"''  '"'""^^  "'«  """""""i 
and  a  f  r'i  2"  ^''■°'"  *'>«  "'^to'-  of  the  cotta.e 
■""^  '*"'"^'»'*  t'om    some    bedraggled 


II 


;a 


''  1 


li 


mmmmmmm 


62 


MAECELLA. 


larches  at  the  edge  of  tlie  eominon.  Far  away,  be- 
yond and  beneath  tho^se  woods  to  the  right,  Widrington 
lay  on  the  phiin,  with  that  liigli-waUed  stone  bnilding 
at  its  edge.  She  saw  everything  as  it  must  now  be 
happening  as  pLainly  as  though  she  were  bodily  present 
there  —  the  last  meal  —  the  pinioning  —  the  cliaplain. 
Goaded  by  the  passing  secoiuls,  slie  turned  back 
at  last  to  wake  that  ])oor  sleeper  behind  her.  But 
something  diverted  her.  With  a  start  she  saw  that 
Willie's  eyes  were  open. 

''Willie,"  she  said,  running  to  him,  "howarej^ou, 
dear?     Shall  I  lift  your  head  a  little?  " 

He  did  not  answer,  though  she  thought  lie  tried, 
and  she  was  struck  by  the  blueness  under  the  eyes 
and  nose.  Hurriedly  she  felt  his  tiny  feet.  They 
were  (juite  cold. 

"Mrs.  Hurd!"  she  cried,  rousing  her  in  haste; 
"  dear  Mrs.  Hurd,  come  and  see  Willie !  " 

The  mother  sprang  up  bewildered,  and,  hurrying 
across  the  room,  threw  herself  upon  him. 

"Willie,  what  is  it  ails  you,  dear?  Tell  mother! 
Is  it  your  feet  are  so  cold?  But  we'll  rub  them  — 
we'll  get  you  warm  soon.  And  here's  something  to 
make  you  better. "  Marcella  lianded  lier  some  brandy. 
"Drink  it,  dear:  drink  it,  sweetheart!"  Her  voice 
grew  shrill. 

" He  can't,"  said  Marcella.  "Do  not  let  us  plague 
him;  it  is  the  end.  Dr.  Clarke  said  it  would  come 
in  the  morninsr." 

They  hung  over  him,  forgetting  everything  but  him 
for  the  moment  —  the  only  moment  in  his  little  life 
he  came  first  even  with  his  mother. 


MARCELLA. 


63 


omethinsif  to 


Ti.en  1,0  tried  to  sii.k*"     "  "'''  '"'«"''^  "«'•  "«=■»• 

life  tl,at  ran  ^.1^2t^  ^'"«"'--  "^  "^P-ting 

Jim!"  '''  *"""'  "'«''>'■  ''«•■  breath _"„y. 

fate  that  c„.„es  it  -!  b.oke  M™'  tat"  S  T 

«.e  moments  nrh:,::^r/'H  ™"'™  "■™"^" 
prayer -the  n7^  .^  'i^^  '''"*"'  ''''''■''  ^'"'^'^^  "f 

man'  soul  rom  the  he  "^  "T  "'"^""«'  '*^  h- 
that  awful  e'lpLtf  Life'  'T  """™  '*»^"  ™ 
whither  it  returns  '  ''^'"•"'  '*  ^"'^^'  "»<! 


t£  ?,..».' 


CHAPTER   XV. 

Two  days  later,  in  tho  afternoon,  Aldous  Raeburn 
+'nund  himself  at  the  door  of  Midlor.  When  he  en- 
tered tixB  diawing-room,  Mrs.  Boyco,  who  had  heard 
his  ring,  was  hurrying  away. 

"Don't  go,"  he  said,  detaining  her  with  a  certain 
peremptoriness.  ''  I  want  all  the  light  on  this  I  can 
get.  Tell  me,  she  has  actually  brought  herself  to 
regard  this  man's  death  as  in  some  sort  my  doing  — 
as  something  wliich  ought  to  sepaurte  us?" 

Mrs.  Royce  saw  that  he  held  an  opened  letter  from 
Marcella  crusiied  in  his  hand,  lint  she  did  not  need 
the  explanation.  She  had  bee:,  expecting  him  at  any 
hour  throughout  the  day,  and  iis  iust  this  condition 
of  mind. 

"Marcella  must  expiui.i  for  herself  "she  said,  after 
a  moment's  thought.  "  1  have  no  .- ht  whatever  to 
speak  iur  her.  l^esides,  frankly,  do  not  iderstand 
her,  and  whtn  I  argue  with  her  she  onl^  akos  me 
realise  that  I  h  ive  no  part  or  lot  in  her  —  that  i  n.ver 
had.  It  is  just  enougli.  She  was  brought  up  away 
from  me.  And  I  have  no  natural  hold.  1  cannot 
help  y    x,  or  any  one  else,  with  her." 

Aldous  had  been  v^ry  tolerant  and  com.passionate 
in  the  past  of  this  strange  iiU)tlH'r's  abdication  of  her 
mateiual  place,   ind  of  its  probable  causes.     But  if 

64 


^AliCELLA. 


66 


)us  Raebuni 
Vhen  he  en- 
o  had  heard 

th  a  certain 
n  this  I  can 
}  herself  to 
my  doing  — 

letter  from 
id  not  need 
;  him  at  any 
is  condition 

«'  said,  after 
^'hatever  to 
der  stand 
^  iaakes  me 
that!  ii.iver 
tit  up  away 
.     1  cannot 

n  passionate 
it  ion  of  her 
es.     But  it 


^^^^  rt»un,ul hu  questioning,  ,„,t  without  «l,ar,,- 

li.ive  writt,.,,  _  but  til   H,i.       ■  "   '  ""^  *""•■     I 

one  liue  from  her  '-  ""■"'"'  '  ^av,    had  no,; 

••'"  Ms  no-tula  u'moT„:^u::"z""'^^'^'  ^«"™* 

"l«n  th„  ,awu  and  the  a^uT     S ttuT"":  """" 
what  she  kneu-  of  M-ireell!"    i  •  '''  '"■"  '"■"'"y 

of  Wharton's  teLn  '         f  .f "'"^'  ''"""  "'"  ^■■"™I 

-!« the  child,  ,':r  n  ;a^''r;;;f ;: ";  f  ^  :*'««■ 

with  a  shuddering  repulsiol      '  "  '"  "''*«"«<1 

"Bo  you  linow,"  he  exel-iim„,i   * 
"that  she  may  n;ver  .■  cot  tt,v"K  "^  """"  •'^'• 
such  a  horroi-i  rushpH    ,  *""'''  ■•>  strain, 

lessly."  ™"""'  "P""  »«  "'i'ntonly,  .„  need- 

"I  understand.     Yon  ^^^\^^    ^i,  .    ^ 
Wame?    I  do  not  .IZ.     Vt'      "T  ''"'  '" 
in  this  particular  case      A„^  ""'  tr„o_„ot 

not  miu,;.  Lr  '  ^  .u  ""^"'''^  y"""  "<'«'  i^ 
faced,  even  by  ~  ""!  "' "  "'  ''~'"''  *"  he 
women.     But  let  2  '"''"'P''   "'"^t  of  all,  by 

will  come  in      And  fir"     ''*'""■"  "^"usband 

Marcella  before  y™  see  S"""  '"'"  "°'"'  ™*'«"'  ''" 

Tl.at  suggestion  r™-;:,7r-\ 
•«W  together,  and  n.-.v.  "''tantly  gathered  hiui- 

-nd  Ifarcell'a        ,    ;':;;;^^''^S«1  that  she  would 

-thing,  Hlk  of  no    L    ,rL    "^  '-"  think  of 

went,  and  A]d.,..  w"  Wf  ^  ''""  her.     She 

VOL.  „._o  "■  '  ""  '^"  tc  TOik  up  ail  1  down  the 


ili 


66 


MARVKLLA. 


i 


room  planning  wliat  ho  shoulcl  say.  Aftor  tho  gliastly 
intermingling  of  pu!)Jic  interests  and  private  misery 
in  which  ho  had  lived  for  these  mauy  weeks  there  was 

a  certain  relief  in  having  reached  the  cleared  space 

the  decisive  moment  —  when  ho  might  at  last  give 
himself  wholly  to  what  truly  concerned  him.  IIo 
would  not  lose  her  without  a  struggle.  None  the  less 
he  knew,  and  had  known  ever  since  the  scene  in  tho 
Court  library,  that  the  great  disaster  of  his  life  was 
upon  him. 

The  handle  of  the  door  turned.     She  was  there. 

He  did  not  go  to  meet  her.  She  had  come  in 
wrought  up  to  face  attack  —  reproaches,  entreaties  — 
ready  to  be  angry  or  to  '  m  humble,  as  he  should  give 
her  the  lead.  But  he  gnve  her  no  lead.  She  had  to 
break  through  that  quivering  silence  as  best  she 
could. 

"I  wanted  to  explain  everything  to  you,"  she  said 
in  a  low  voice,  as  she  came  near  to  him.  "I  know 
my  note  last  night  was  very  hard  and  abrupt.  I 
didn't  mean  to  be  hard.  But  I  am  still  so  tired  — 
and  everything  that  one  says,  and  feels,  hurts  so." 

She  sank  down  upon  a  chair.  This  womanish 
appeal  to  his  pity  had  not  been  at  all  in  her  pro- 
gramme. Nor  did  it  immediately  succeed.  As  he 
looked  at  her,  be  could  only  feel  the  wantonness  of 
this  eclipse  into  which  she  had  plunged  her  youth 
and  beauty.  There  was  wrath,  a  passionate  protest- 
ing wrath,  under  his  pain. 

"Marcella,"  hf»  said,  sitting  down  beside  her,  "did 
you  read  my  letter  that  I  wrote  you  the  day  be- 
fore — ?  " 


^A  RCELLA. 


67 


"Yes." 

"And  after  that,  you  roulrl  «fiii  i    i- 

forvvard  from  Lis    !  t,     m   'f ''  "™"'">''   '"'■"•"'g 

-passionately  for  otkJZVJZ  ^ '"'' ''!''"'' 
-  freedom  of  judgmonf    V„„    ,  """st^'ence 

-'"n,,tho„ghiiski  ofyo::ih"',f ""  "r  '"^■ 

you  denied  me  more      TI,,C1    m        f^"™'-     ^"^ 
Have  refused  meZ     ■"""'«''  "'"«"  Ave  weeks  you 

righttoshtyoumLrr:,"'  ?'"  "'  '°™-«'« 
all  this  miser;  ofXi7:  S:/""  *'"""■■""«" 
more,  ol,,  ,„„«.,  more  to  me't  ^to  yTu-""7'  '""* 
truth  bent  on  the  same  ends  with  vrT  "'  '" 
same  burdou   gropin,  *„,,„,,  tl^  ar^oal"'"'  "" 

know  you  we  e  sor  y  ^ T  '  T'  ^™ ''™"  b°"-?    I 
your  mind -that  you  nit  '  "?"  "  ■''*"'»«'«'  *■> 

>-  judged  i.  an  zrr ;--rwLr;-  "-* 

and  r  could  not  see  thnf  ..«    i    ^  "^  ^^^  down  — 

.»e  mad  to  have  s™    t  iC's  e^  ftl" '«!"■   J'  "^^ 
I  wa.  below -in  the  n.id!  -olt  to  luT*'  "'"°  ^ 
anguish  of  them."  ^  horror  and 

"Whose  fault  was  if  "  t^.^  •  ^ 
"ot  with  you?    nM  ,'...f-"'""™P*'"''  "'hat  I  was 


-J-V 

uuer  — entreat?    1 


could 


( J 


68 


MARCELLA. 


not  sign  a  statement  of  fact  which  seemed  to  me 
an  untrue  statement,  but  what  prevented  me  —  pre- 
vented us.  —  However,  let  me  take  that  point  first. 
Would  you,"  — he  spoke  deliberately,  "would  you 
have  had  me  put  my  name  to  a  public  statement 
which  I,  rightly  or  wrongly,  believed  to  be  false, 
because  you  asked  me?     You  owe  it  to  me  to  answer." 

She  could  not  escape  the  penetrating  fire  of  his  eye. 
The  man's  mildness,  his  quiet  self-renouncing  reserve, 
were  all  burnt  up  at  last  in  this  white  heat  of  an 
accusing  passion.  In  return  she  began  to  forget  her 
own  resolve  to  bear  herself  gently. 

"You  don't  remember,"  she  cried,  "that  what 
divided  us  was  your  — your  —  incapacity  to  pit  the 
human  pity  first;  to  think  of  the  surrounding  circum- 
stances —  of  the  debt  that  you  and  I  and  everybody 
like  us  owe  to  a  man  like  Hurd  — to  one  who  had 
been  stunted  and  starved  by  life  as  he  had  been." 

Her  lip  began  to  tremble. 

"Then  it  comes  to  this,"  he  said  steadily,  "that 
if  I  had  been  a  poor  man,  you  would  have  allowed  me 
my  conscience  —  my  judgment  of  right   and  wrong 

—  in  such  a  matter.  You  would  have  let  me  remem- 
ber that  I  was  a  citizen,  and  that  pity  is  only  one  side 
of  justice !  You  would  have  let  me  plead  that  Kurd's 
sin  was  not  against  mej  but  against  the  community, 
and  that  in  determining  whether  to  do  what  you 
wished  or  no,  I  must  think  of  the  community  and  its 
good  before  even  T  thought  of  pleasing  you.  If  I  liad 
possessed  no  more  than  Hurd,  all  this  would  have 
been  permitted  me;  but  because  of  Maxwell  Court 

—  because  of  my  mone^,"  — she  shrank  before  the 


MARCKLLA.  ^^ 

accent  of  the  word "  ,rr.„  .   e 

pity,  and  I  u:;t;zr'M::'  n ;""  -^  ^™' 

can  got  neither  at  yo>  r  ^1"    ,'  ''  °"'^'  "^"  ^''"o 
promised  to  many  - "  ~  ""^  '"="'  "''">■"  7"" 

His  voice  dwelt  ou  that  last  word,  dwelt  'md  1,,.  i. 
He  leant  over  her  in  I,i=  ,         i  "''  "'oke. 

take  her  hand      Z      .  ™"^'''' »"'«'B"'.  '".d  tried  to 
a  e,y.  ^'"'  '''"  '""™d  a^'ay  from  him  with 

"It  is  no  use!     Oh   dnn'f      ,i^  5i.f     r 
t™e.     I  was  vaiu,  I  dare "IranT       ■    '.  ""^  ""  "" 
B'.t  don't  you  see  _  don't  vn  T'*'  '■""•  ''""l- 

-«  take  sLh  cUi^erervilwro^rrZ-  "^^^ 
could  divide  lis  so  deenlv  —  whnt  I  ~  '*  '* 

be  if  we  were  married?^  ou^^  t"'"  ™"'"  *'""^ 
"ave  said  'Yes '  to  you-evef  "r  r™''-'" 
no.,"  she  turne.l  to  him  « Jf;  ;",^,r!  ,"'™-  .  «»' 
yourself.  I  am  a  changed  cr^tu  o  JZ^l  '"' 
111  me  are  ffone  —  «n»^  i-  ^titam  things 

— in^^i-wn/::,-:;;;-!!:^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

•:i;^.:ouXd'mir''''"'^^'-"'"-^ 

I'aviug  bL,tM  thh,       "TT  ^''"  ■  ^'"'«  ""'■'  and 
servants    111';  "'?  "^''-''■''  »<1  Jewels,  and 

^/"^i  Po wei  —  social  power  --  above  t  ]  1  /A«/ 
I  feel  sick  and  choked.     I  coulrln'f  1„     J 
house  like  Maxwell  Court      SI  f      ""''  "^  ^ 

mean  to  nie  thp  nni,  i'  P^""'  ^'''^^^  ^ome  to 

out  what  [  can  do  fo.     L,       ^  '™'''  '"'■  *''^'»'  «"d 
-r'-nuustindeed.      r.. ..""'"'.  «'™  """■!' 


and 


you  u'ill!     You  will 


70 


MARCELLA. 


be  glad  enough,   thankful   enougli,   when  —  when 

you  knoio  what  1  am  !  " 

He  started  at  the  words.     Where  was  the  prophet- 
ess?  He  saw  that  she  was  lying  white  and  breathless, 
her  face  hidden  against  the  arm  of  the  chair. 
In  an  instant  he  was  on  his  knees  beside  her. 
"Marcella!"  he  could  hardly  command  his  voice, 
but  he  held  her  struggling  hand  against  his  lips.    "  You 
tliink  that  suffering  belongs  to  one  class?     Have  you 
really  no  conception  of  what  you  will  be  dealing  to 
me  if  you  tear  yourself  away  from  me?" 
She  Avithdrew  her  hand,  sobbing. 
"Don't,  don't  stay  near  me!  "  she  said;  "there  is  — 
more  —  there  is  something  else." 
Aldous  rose. 

"You  mean,"  he  said  in  an  altered  voice,  after  a 
pause  of  silence,  "that  another  influence  —  another 
man  —  has  come  between  us?  " 

She  sat  up,  and  with  a  strong  effort  drove  back  her 
weeping. 

"  If  I  could  say  to  you  only  this,"  she  began  at  last, 
with  long  pauses,  "  '  I  mistook  myself  and  my  part 
in  life.     I  did  wrong,  but  forgive  me,  and  let  me  go 

for  both  our  sakes  '  —  that  would  be  —  well ! that 

would  be  difficult,— but  easier  than  this!  Haven't 
you  understood  at  all?  When  —  when  Mr.  Wharton 
came,  I  began  to  see  things  very  soon,  not  in  my  own 
way,  but  in  his  way.  I  had  never  met  any  one  like 
him  —  not  any  one  who  showed  me  such  possibilities 
in  mysp//— such  new  ways  of  using  one's  life,  and  not 
only  one's  possessions  —  of  looking  at  all  the  great 
questions.     I  thought  it  was  just  friendship,  but  it 


'  there  is  — 


i^e  back  her 


MARCELLA.  .^j 

'narin  me  critical,  impatient  of  evervfl.in.    .1  r 

was  never  nivsolf  iVr.,..  ^r^.    i  '^^eiytiiing   else.     I 

the  ball^'  "^^«^'^fj^«m  the  beg,nnin^^     Then,_aftor 

-y  room  and  f^i  sTeps      th    ""'  '? ^  '  "^^  ^" 
you  know,  about  thai  ^  oT         We^^'f  ^^^^^^^ 

in  o  /hi  A  "~  ^"^''^^'  ^^^  ^^«  there.      We  went 

-^.s       aJirSl^kl^r^^^^ 

liie  last  words  were  only  breatl.P,!       qi     i     ^     n 
pictured  he:.elf  co„fe.,si„/thr  M  .^s  1 1,'^^  "^ 
tlie  humiliation  in  whii-ir  sho  „„►     n    .  ^"' 

before  him  was  n,n  p  «         1    f'"""^  f^ad  herself 

morethaus  ee  II  botr  Vf  ^™"  ^--^  »'^ 
pity  and  n,e..oy  _  a,l  at  imii  attn'Tf  t  °' 
n.osphe..e  to  which  he  could  nveTattai.  T"',"'' 
this  story.  The  effect  of  it.  on  Ltself  J°  "h  '" 
o"  h  m,  was  what  she  had  no!  foresee:.  '  "'"'  """' 
Aldous  raised  himself  slowly 

_  J  And  when  d.d  this  happen."    he  asked  after  a 

-:"rc-?;H:titr":ia-;°;f:^"- 

«;-enue.     X  meant  tc..a™  U  yoHvSinn: 

"And  you  gave  up  that  intention?"  he  axtpd  i,„ 
-ben  he  had  waited  a  little  for  „  ore  'ml  ,ll      ' 
came.  i"ore,  jncl  notiiing 

anci"  '""""'  "P™  """  -'"'  -  flash  of  the  old  defi- 


M 


ym^ 


72 


MARCELLA. 


"How  could  r  think  of  my  own  affairs*/  " 
"Or  of  mine?"  he  said  bitterly. 
She  made  no  answer. 

Aldous  got  up  and  walked  to  the  chimney-piece. 
He  was  very  pale,  but  his  eyes  were,  bright  and 
sparkling.  When  she  looked  up  at  him  at  last  she 
saw  tliat  her  task  was  done.  His  scorn  —  his  resent- 
ment—were they  not  the  expiation,  the  penalty  she 
had  looked  forward  to  all  along?  —and  with  that  de- 
termination to  bear  them  calmly?  Yet,  now  that 
they  were  there  in  front  of  her,  they  stung. 

''So  that  —  for  all  those  weeks  —  while  you  were 
letting  me  write  as  I  did,  while  you  were  letting  me 
conceive  you  and  your  action  as  I  did,  you  had  this 
on  your  mind?  You  never  gave  me  a  hint;  you  let  me 
plead;  you  let  me  regard  you  as  wrapped  up  in  the 
unselfish  end;  you  sent  me  those  letters  of  his  —  those 
most  misleading  letters!  —and  all  the  time  —  " 

"  But  I  meant  to  tell  you  —  I  always  meant  to  tell 
you,"  she  cried  passionately.  "I  w(5uld  never  have 
gone  on  with  a  secret  like  that  — not  for  your  sake  — 
but  for  my  own." 

^^  "Yet  you  did  go  on  so  long,"  he  said  steadily; 
"and  my  agony  of  mind  during  those  weeks  — my 
feeling  towards  you  —  my  —  " 

He  broke  off,  wrestling  with  himself.  As  for  her, 
she  had  fallen  back  in  her  chair,  physically  incapable 
of  anything  more. 

He  walked  over  to  her  side  and  took  up  his  hat. 
"You  have  done  me  wrong,"  he  said,  gazing  down 
upon  her.     "  I  pray  God  you  may  not  do  yourself  a 
greater  wrong  in  the  future!     Give  me  leave  to  write 


ii. 


iant  to  tell 
lever  have 
>ur  sake  — 


MAliCELLA. 


78 


Her  form  as  she  lay  there        tl^  1  T   ^"''''^- 

she  was  alone  — and  free.  ^^'"*^' 


BOOK     III. 

"O  Neicrung.  sage,  wie  hast  du  so  lief 
Im  Herzen  dich  verstecket  ? 
Wer  hat  dich,  die  verborgen  schlief, 
Gewecket  ?  " 


i'! 


1^1 


I     -J 


n 

S] 

fi 
ei 
it; 
til 
is 
on 
th 
it.- 


loc 
rol 
nei 
wit 
no 


ac 


pro 

of  1] 

Seli 


pans 
you 


IS  m 


CHAPTER   I. 

"Don't  supjwse  that  I  feel  entl.usiastie  or  seuti 
raental  about  the  .ckin>s  of  Labou.-,'"  said  Wharton 
sm,h„s  to  the  lady  beside  hi™.  .  Vo«  .nay  get  thTt 
from  other  people,  but  not  fron,  me.     I  am  not  mord 

teelt  When  thmgs  are  inevitable,  I  prefer  to  he  on 
the  nght  side  of  them,  and  not  ou  the  lr„^.  Th<^" 
.s  not  much  more  in  it  than  that.  I  would  rather  be 
on  the  ba.k  of  the  '  bore '  for  instanee,  as  t  s  eep  „: 
the  t:dal  r.ver,  than  the  swimmer  caught  underS 

"Well,  that  is  intelligible,"  said  Lady  Selina  Farrell 

looking  at  her  neighbour,  as  she  erumbled  her  dh  uer 

oil.     To  crumble  your  bread  at  dinner  is  a  si"    of 

ne  vousness,  according  to  Sydney  Smith,  who  did  it 

«th  both  hands  when  he  sat  next  an  Archbishop    ye 

I^.icly  Sel  ua  of  nervousness,  though  her  powers  h-,rt 
probably  been  tried  before  now  by  the  neighbomh 
of  many  Pr„„ate.s,  Cathol.e  and  Anglican.     Fo   L^l 
behna  went  u.uch  into  society,  a«d  had  begun  it  yot^f 
Still,  you  know,"  she  resumed  after  a  laoLntt^ 

y:r:~t7™ ""'  """"^'^»" '"  p""'»-i  -wo- 

is  in?he  galT" "" '^'"*'"' "^^'^'^^^ntly.   ■< That 

77 


«! 


78 


MAIiCKLLA. 


"  Wljy  should  it  be  —  always  ?  I  f  yoii  are  a  hml  r 
of  the  people,  why  don't  yoii  educate  tlieiii  ?  My 
father  says  that  wringing  feeling  int(^  [.olitics  is  like 
making  rhymes  in  one's  account  book." 

''  Well,  when  you  have  taught  the  masses  hou  not 
to  feel,"  said  Whartoii,  laughing,  *'  we  will  follow  your 
advice.  Meanwhile  it  is  our  brains  and  their  feelings 
that  do  the  trick.  Aiul  by  the  way,  Lady  .Selina,  are 
you  always  so  cool  '.'  U  you  saw  the  FN  volution  com- 
ing to-morrow  into  the  garden  of  Alresford  House, 
would  you  go  to  the  balcony  and  argue  ?  " 

"I  devoutly  hope  there  would  be  somebody  ready 
to  do  something  more  t  the  point,"  said  Lady  Selina, 
hastily.     "  But  of  course  wp  have  enthusiasms  too." 

''What,  the  Flag  — and  the  Throne  — that  k  d  of 
thing  ?  " 

The  ironical  attention  whicli  Wharton  began  at  this 
moment  to  devote  to  the  selection  of  an  olive  annoyed 
his  companion. 

"  Yes,"  she  repeated  emphatically,  "the  Flag  and  the 
Throne  —  all  that  has  made  England  great  in  the  past. 
But  we  know  very  well  that  they  are  not  your  enthu- 
siasms." 

Wharton's  upper  lip  twitched  a  little. 

''And  you  are  quite  sure  that  Busbridge  Towers  has 
nothing  to  do  with  it?"  he  said  suddenly,  looking 
round  upon  her. 

Busbridge  Towers  was  the  fine  ancestral  seat  which 
belonged  to  Lady  Selina's  father,  that  very  respectable 
and  ancient  peer,  Lord  Alresford,  whom  an  ungrate- 
ful party  had  unaccountably  omitted  — for  the  first 
time  —  from  the  latest  Conservative  administration. 


MARCELLA. 


•e  a  leadt  r 
Bin  ?  My 
cs  is  like 

■i  ho  V  not 
How  your 
r  feelings 
•elina,  are 
tion  com- 
d  House, 

'dy  ready 
ly  Helina, 
s  too." 
:  k    A  of 

in  at  this 
annoyed 

?  and  the 
the  past. 
ir  entlm- 


wers  has 
looking 

at  which 
ipectable 
ungrate- 
bhe  first 
'ation. 


70 


Spli,?f ''"'"■;  '''''''''''  "'"^^'rstand;  replied  Lady 
Nehna  «cornfu.,y,  nhat  your  side  -  and  esneciullv 
your  Socialist  friends,  nut  down  all  that  Tdo  and 
Z^/^-^;'^-     ^t  is  our  niisl^rtun:!:! 

trvm''  '"•"  ''^'   '''^"'""'  ^1"'^"^'^'  "T  --«  only 
tiying  to  convince  you  that  it  is  a  little  difficult  to 

lost  sue     ..s.     You   perceive V- this  is  a  Kadical 
iioase -„  Radical  banquet?" 

Th^n  Z       '  ^""  TT   "'™"''    •'"   significantly. 

over  the  room,  over  the  s,,len,,li,l  .liuner-table,  with 
i3.1,8playof  ttowers  and  plate,  and  over  the  Lren 
bled  guests.     He  and  Lady  Selina  were  dinin.'tt  e 
hospitable  board  of  a  certain  rieh  manufaZer  wL 

pait  of  the  Radieil  contingent  of  the  last  Lil»ral 
"y'Tseries'f    '"*  "^'^""^  distinguished  hi,..:: 

i^dZriiror''^''''^'''^"*'""''^  °''  '--^ ''™-'' 

Lady  Selina  sighed. 

"It  is  all  a  horrible  tangle,"  she  said,  "and  what 
he  next  twenty  years  will  bring  forth  who  can  tell  ' 
Oh!  one  moment,  Mr.  Wharton,  before  I  forget  Are 
you  engaged  for  Saturday  week  '  " 

.TK  n       "PP^^'-^d  'h'^t  ie  was  not  engaged 

Then  will  you  dine  with  us  ?  "    She  lightly  men 

itii  ii  xitue  ccruiiionious  bow. 


I       1 


.'M 


*fei 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


Ih      2.8 

2.5 

^  m 

t  IIIIIM 

lao 

!^  lli^ 

2.2 
2.0 

i.8 

u 

1.6 

^     APPLIED  INA^GE     Inc 


1653   East   Main   Street 
Rochester,   New   York         14609 
(716)   482  -  0300  -  Phone 
(716)   288  -  5989  -  Fax 


USA 


80 


MARCELLA. 


;f  *ff' 


il 


behave?""    ''   '""'"""'•      ^^"   ^~'    '"'«'   "-    to 

momtrt.^""'"''  '"'""  """'"  '''■■  '•'^  """t'^''  *■'"■  'be 
"Oh!  we  can  defend  ourselves!"  she  said.     "By 
the  way  I  think  y„„  toUl  me  that  M,-.  Eaebum  wa^ 
not  a  friend  of  yours." 

''No,"  said  Wharton,  facing  her  look  with  coolness. 
If  you  have  asked  Mr.  Raeburn  for  the  23rd,  let  me 

book.     Not  for  my  sake,  you  understand,  at  all." 

She  had  Uifficulty  in  concealing  her  curiosity.     But 

his  face  betrayed  nothing.     It  always  seemed  to  her 

that  his  very  dark  and  straight  eyebrows,  so  obtrusive 

an(    unusual  as  compared  with  the  delicacy  of  the 

features  of  the  fair  skin  and  light  brown  curls,  made 

easy  for  him  to  wear  any  mask  he  pleased.     By 

]eir  mere   physical   emphasis   they   drew  attention 

away  from  the  subtler  and  more  revealing  things  of 

expression.  *= 

Sl^'Z^'^K  *'  '''"*''"'  ""«^*  ^^  '"  ^'^  to  do 
well  >„  the  House,  if  only  he  can  be  made  to  take 

in  erest  enough  „,  the  party.    But  one  of  his  admii-ers 
told  me  that  he  was  not  at  all  anxious  to  accepr  h 
post  they  have  just  given  him.    He  only  did  it  to 
please  lus  grandfather.    My  father  thinks  Lord  Max- 
well much  aged  this  year.     He  is  laid  up  „„w,  with 
a  ch.ll  of  some  sort  I  believe.     Mr.  Eaeburn  will 
W  to  make  haste  if  he  is  to  have  any  career  in  the 
Commons.    But  you  can  see  he  cares  very  little  about 
■t.    All  his  friends  tell  me  they  find  him  changed 
since  that  unlucky  affair  last  year.     By  the  way  did 
you  ever  see  that  girl?"  «  way,  ma 


J 


"  Certainly. 


MARCELLA. 


81 


y^^vv^imj.     I  was  staying  m  Hp.  f  .,     , 
-1;;  e  the  e„gage„.ent  .  JgoL!  o.^"  '^^^"^'^   ^-- 


We 


did  youTlS  of  her'  '"'"^  ^''''^^'  ^'^^^^'^^^  "^^^d  what 


'she 


Well,  in  the  first  pla» 


«, '  said  Wliar 


La.lv  «!r'''^"''  r-'""  """"^  that?" 
Jjaily  helina  uoddeil. 

"  V'es.     Miss  Raebm-n,  wlm  h«,  f  u 
^vhat  I  know,  always  th  ol    i„  '  I       ""  ""'^*  "' 
when  you  a.k  about  her  lookl      H,       "^  "'"'  "  '  ">»* ' 
a  photograph  of  her  so  T  1      "r"^"--  ^  have  seen 
«ee.ne,l  to  me  a  be.w  t  tU  ,       ^"''f  '"  '»>-^'"-    I* 
more  than  women"   ^         '"'°  ''""'''^P^  -«"«  admire 

Wharton  devoted  himself  t„  i,- 
made  no  reply      Ladv  q»i         ,       '  ^'■^™  P""",  and 
She  herself'was  ty t  ml?'?^''''  ^'  '>'»  sharply 
was  she  plain,     she  l,ad "T  "     ""J'^-     ^^  "«'he'- 
face,  with  a  marked  nose  and  !w-  ,''.'^"  '"''«»g"i«hed 
Her  plentiful  fair  ha"r  a  tml.u  ^'^-'iK^d  »>outh. 
-s  heaped  up  abov^I  ;,  fo    tai     ""  "'^ '"  "o'""' 
and  rolls  which  did  great  eed  til  """"'^'™'"  ""'« 
additional  height  to  the  hefd  »  J'T '""''''  ="=''  «"« 
white  neck.     Her  light  Wne  ''"«^*  '"  ■»  ^in 

observant.  Their  exo  ess  '^'',  ""■'  '^'^  '"'^ct  and 
knowledge  of  h  ^^ITf^'  ?""'  ^"-■'^-•* 
Many  persons  indeed  te'f  ™'  ""l"i««veness. 
wished  to  kuow  too  IX;  jr°''  T  ^^''y  «^'"- 
Suard  when  she  approlehed        '     '""  *^'^  ""  "'«^ 

as';^:rnXeSXr-^''^^-esumed, 
"  po'X  fr:::;,'^''''  '""'^"-'  -^  «-.  I  defended 


her 


f=ll 


VOL.  II. —6 


82 


MARCELLA. 


"  Oh,  I  remember.  And  it  is  really  true,  as  Miss 
Raeburn  says,  that  she  broke  it  off  because  she  could 
not  get  Lord  Maxwell  and  Mr.  Raeburn  to  sign  tlie 
petition  for  the  poacher?" 

"  Somewhere  about  true,"  said  Wharton,  carelessly. 

"  Miss  Raeburn  always  gives  the  same  account ;  you 
can  never  get  anything  else  out  of  her.  But  I  some- 
times wonder  whether  it  is  the  whole  truth.  You  think 
she  was  sincere  ?  " 

"  Well,  she  gave  up  Maxwell  Court  and  thirty  thou- 
sand a  year,"  he  replied  drily.  "  I  should  say  she  had 
at  least  earned  th*^  benefit  of  the  doubt." 

"  I  mean,"  said  Lady  Selina,  "  was  she  in  lo^e  with 
anybody  else,  and  was  the  poacher  an  excuse  ?  " 

She  turned  upon  him  as  she  spoke — a  smiling, 
self-possessed  person  —  a  little  spoilt  by  those  hard, 
inquisitive  eyes. 

"No,  I  think  not,"  said  Wharton,  throwing  his 
head  back  to  meet  her  scrutiny.  "  If  so,  nothing  has 
been  heard  of  him  yet.  Miss  Boyce  has  been  at  St. 
Edward's  Hospital  for  the  last  year." 

"  To  learn  nursing  ?  It  is  what  all  the  women  do 
nowadays,  they  tell  me,  who  can't  get  on  with  their 
relations  or  their  lo^'"""s.  Do  you  suppose  it  is  such 
a  very  hard  life  ?  " 

"I  don't  want  to  try*"  said  Wharton.    "Do  vou?" 

She  evaded  his  smile, 

"  What  is  she  going  to  do  when  she  has  done  her 
training  ?  "' 

"  Settle  down  and  nurse  among  the  poor,  I  believe." 

"  Magnificent,  no  doubt,  but  hardly  business,  from 
her  point  of  view.     How  much  more  she  might  have 


,  as  Miss 

she  could 

sign  tiie 

arelessly. 
unt;  you 
t  I  some- 
t^ou  think 

rry  thou- 
Y  she  had 

love  with 

smiling, 
3se  hard, 

mng  his 
hi^ig  has 
ien  at  St. 

'omen  do 
ith  their 
t  is  such 

•o  vou?" 

ione  her 

believe." 
!ss,  from 
ght  have 


MAnCELLA.  gg 

done  for  the  poor  with  thirty  thousand  a  year !     And 
any  woman  could  put  up  with  Aldous  Raeburn." 
Wharton  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"We  come  back  to  those  feelings,  Lady  Selina,  you 
thmk  so  badly  of."  "'j  J'"" 

She  laughed. 

"Well,  but  feelings  must  be  intelligible.  And  this 
seems  so  small  a  cause.  However,  were  you  there 
when  It  was  broken  off  ?  " 

"No;  I  have  never  seen  her  since  the  day  of  the 
poacher's  trial."  ^ 

frnl?!n  ^"^  f"^  ^'   ^"^^'^   ^"*^  '^^^P^^*«    ««^l^«ion 
irom  all  her  f r.cnds  ?  " 

"That  I  can't  ansv.er  for.     I  can  only  tell  you  my 

own  experience."  "^  "^ 

Lady  Selina  bethought   herself  of  a  great   many 

ThT.T'rr  '"  ''^'  ^"'  '"^"^^°^^^  "^^^  "«<^  ^«k  them 
^iie  talk  fel     upon   politics,  which   lasted   till   the 

hostess  gave  the  signal,  and  Lady  Selina,  gathering 

le,  T.     r  '"":    ^^"^'''  ''''^''  ^'''''  '^'^  '^^^  ^^ext 
W    f    1.    r  '^'  ^^  '^'  ^^''^^  "^  ^^'  ^'-^We,  while  a 
host  of  elderly  ladies,  wives  of  ministers  and  the  like 
stood  meekly  by  to  let  her  pass. 

As  he  sat  down  again,  Wharton  made  the  entry 
of  the  dinner  at  Alresford  House,  to  which  he  had 
just  promised  himself,  a  little  plahier.  It  was  the 
second  time  in  three  weeks  that  Lady  Selma  had 
asked  him,  and  he  was  well  aware  that  several  other 
men  at  this  dinner-table,  of  about  the  same  standing 
and  prospects  as  himself,  would  be  very  glad  to  be  in 
his  place.  Lady  Selina,  though  she  was  unmarried, 
ana  not  particularly  handsome  or  particularly  charm- 


i  tiff 


is:* 


•tl 


m 


84 


MARCBLLA. 


iiig,  was  a  personage  —  and  knew  it.  As  the  mhtress 
of  her  father's  various  fine  houses,  and  the  kinswoman 
of  half  the  great  families  of  England,  she  had  ample 
social  opportunities,  and  made,  on  the  whole,  clever 
uee  of  them.  She  was  not  exactly  popular,  but  in 
her  day  she  had  been  extremely  useful  to  many,  and 
her  invitations  were  prized.  Wharton  had  been  intro- 
duced to  her  at  the  beginning  of  this,  his  second 
session,  had  adopted  with  her  the  easy,  aggressive, 
"personal"  manner  —  which,  on  the  whole,  was  his 
natural  manner  towards  women  —  and  had  found  it 
immediately  successful. 

When  he  had  replaced  his  pocket-book,  he  found 
himself  approached  by  a  man  on  his  own  side  of  the 
table,  a  member  of  Parliament  like  himself,  with  whom 
he  was  on  moderately  friendly  terms. 

"  Your  motion  comes  on  next  Friday,  I  think,"  said 
the  new-comer. 
Wharton  nodded. 

"It'll  be  a  beastly  queer  division,"  said  the  other  — 
"  a  precious  lot  of  cross-voting." 

"That'll  be  the  way  with  that  kind  of  question 
for  a  good  while  to  come — don't  you  think"  — said 
Wharton,  smiling,  "  till  we  get  a  complete  reorganisa- 
tion of  parties  ?  " 

As  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  enjoying  his  cigar- 
ette, his  half-shut  eyes  behind  the  curls  of  smoke  made 
a  good-humoured  but  contemptuous  study  of  his  com- 
panion. 

Mr.  Bateson  was  a  young  manufacturer,  recently 
returned  to  Parliament,  and  newly  married.  He  had 
an  open,  ruddy  face,  spoilt  by  an  expression  of  chronic 


MARCELLA. 


SB 


perplexity,  which  was  almost  fretfulness.     .^ot  that 
feested  that  the  man  had  ambitions  far  beyond  his 

vote'^le'ifTl"™'"  "■'  y™  set  a  considerable 
vote,    he  resumed,  after  a  pause ;  "  it's  like  women', 

tht:'til,  !r''  ""'  '"  ™  ™«"«  '-  «-™ndo 
get  yiu.'^  ^*"'  '^"^"^'  "  I  ^^o  *«  shan't 

opOon  r7*',f  '"  ^'Kl^'-hours  day,  by  loeal  and  trade 

11       .^^  .^  "P'"'""  ^  '™8''*  =««  ^vell   vote  for 
8t„k,„gthe  flag  ou  the  British  Empire  at  once-    I 
wo^d  be  the  death-knell  of  all  our  prosperity" 

Wharton's  artistic  ear    disliked    the    mixture    of 
metaphor,  and  he  frowned  slightly 

Mr.  Bateson  hurried  on.     He  was  already  excited 
and  nad  fallen  upon  Wharton  as  a  prey  ' 

"And  you  really  desire  to  make  it  penal  for  us 
manufacturers -for  me  in  my  industry  i!  in  spTte  o 
all  the  chances  and  changes  of  the  market,  to  work  my 
men  more  than  eight  hours  a  day-..,,  if  t^e^'vSh 

"We  must  get  our  decision,  our  majority  of  the 
adult  workers  in  any  given  district  in  favour  of  an 
e^ght-hours  day  "  said  Wharton,  blandly  ;  "then  whe" 

icTin'ttlot^  '"'  "'  '"^  '°-'  ^— ^  -"'  P- 'S 
"  And  my  men  -conceivably  -  may  have  voted  in 

^ote  ,s  a.ven,  ,t  w.ll  be  a  punishable  offence  for 


k  I  ■ 


th 


86 


MARCELLA. 


t  ^t 


them,  and  me,  to  work  oy(  rtime  ?     You  actually  mean 
that ;  how  do  you  propose  to  punish  us  '^  " 

"Well,"  said  Wharton,  religliting  his  cigarette, 
"  that  is  a  much  debated  point.  I'ersonally,  1  am  in 
favour  of  Mnprisonment  ratlier  than  tine.  " 

The  other  bounded  on  his  chair. 

"  You  would  imprison  me  for  working  overtime  — 
with  wilUng  men  !  " 

Wharton  eyed  him  with  smiling  composure.  Two 
or  three  other  men  —  an  old  general,  the  smart  private 
secretary  of  a  cabinet  minister,  and  a  well-known 
permanent  official  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  great 
spending  departments  —  who  were  sitting  grouped  at 
the  end  of  the  table  a  few  feet  away,  stopped  their 
conversation  to  listen. 

"  Except  in  cases  of  emergency,  which  are  provided 
for  under  the  Act,"  said  Wharton.  "  Yes,  I  should 
imprison  you,  with  the  greatest  pleasure  in  life.  Eight 
hours  plus  overtime  is  what  we  are  going  to  stop,  at  all 
hazards ! " 

A  flash  broke  from  his  blue  eyes.  Then  he  tran- 
quilly resumed  his  smoking. 

The  young  manufacturer  flushed  with  angry  agita- 
tion. 

"  But  you  must  know,  it  is  inconceivable  that  you 
should  not  know,  that  the  whole  thing  is  stark  staring 
lunacy.  In  our  business,  trade  is  declining,  the  export 
falling  every  year,  the  imports  from  France  steadily 
advancing.  And  you  are  going  to  make  us  fight  a 
country  where  men  work  eleven  hours  a  day,  for  lower 
wages,  with  our  hands  tied  behind  our  backs  by  legis- 
lation of  this   kind?     Well,  you  know,"   he   threw 


1 
c 
a 

0 

a 


t] 
w 

P 
ct 


MARCELLA. 


8T 


himself  back 
**  there  can 


in  liis  eliiiir  with  a  contemijtiious  laugh 
to  only  „„„  explanation.     Vou  and  your 
fnends,  of  course,  have  hanished  political  economy  to 

of  t  lor  all  the  rest  of  the  world.  But  I  i,na«ine  it 
will  boat  you,  all  the  same ! " 

He  stopped  iu  a  heat.  As  usual  what  he  found  to 
ay  was  not  equal  to  what  he  wanted  to  say,  and 
beneath  h,s  anger  with  Wharton  was  the  famih» 
iummg  at  h,s  own  lack  of  in.pressiveness 

"  Well  I  dare  say,"  said  Wharton,  serenely.    "How- 

Z'^XT  '"""•;'»"'■-'  economy '[.omenT, 
and  see  if  I  can  understand  what  you  mean  I,y  it 
Ihere  never  were  two  words  that  meaut  all  things  to 
all  men  so  disreputably : "  ^ 

And  thereupon  to  the  constant  accompaniment  of 
hm  cigarette,  and  with  the  utmost  confposu      and 

putting  questions,  suggesting  perfidious  illust  ations 

shrewdness  and  malice,  which  presently  left  the 
unfortunate  Bateson  floundering  in  a  sea  ^f  his  own 

attach  any  rational  idea  whatever  to  those  great  words 
of  his  favourite  science,  wherewith  he  was  genera  l 
accustomed  to  make  such  triu  r.hant  play,  bo  h"^ 
the  platform  and  in  the  bosom  of  the  family 

Ihe  permanent  official  round  the  corner  watched 
the  unequal  fight  with  attentive  amusement     On 
when  ,t  was  a  question  of  Mill's  doctrine  of  cost  rf 
pmduction  as  compared  with  that  of  a  leading  modern 
collectivist.  he  leant  forward  and  supplied  a  correct  on 


fii 


88 


MA  li  CELL  A. 


of  somethinpr  Wharton  liad  said  Wliarton  instantly 
put  down  his  cigarette  and  addressed  him  in  another 
tone.  A  rapid  dialogue  passed  between  them,  the 
dialogue  of  experts,  sharp,  allusive,  elliptical,  in  the 
midst  of  which  the  host  gave  the  signal  for  joining 
the  ladies. 

"  Well,  all  I  know  is,"  said  Bateson,  as  he  got  up, 
''that  these  kind  of  questions,  if  you  and  your  friends 
have  your  way,  will  wreck  the  "liberal  party  before 
long  — far  more  effectually  than  anything  Trish  has 
ever  done.  On  these  things  some  of  us  will  light,  if 
it  must  come  to  that." 

Wharton  laughed. 

"  It  would  be  a  national  misfortune  if  you  didn't 
give  us  a  stiff  job,"  he  said,  with  an  airy  good-humour 
which  at  once  made  the  other's  blustering  look  ridic- 
ulous. 

"  I  wonder  what  that  fellow  is  going  to  do  in  the 
House,"  said  the  permanent  official  to  his  companion 
as  they  went  slowly  upstairs,  Wharton  being  some  dis- 
tance ahead.     "  People  are  all  beginning  to  talk  of  him 
as  a  coming  man,  though  nobody  quite  knows  why,  as 
yet.     They  tell  me  he  frames  well  in  speaking,  and 
will    probably  make   a  mark  with   his   speech   next 
Friday.     But  his  future  seems  to  me  very  doubtful. 
He  can  only  become  a  power  as  the  head  of  a  new 
Labour  party.     But  where  is  the  party  ?     They  all 
want  to  be  kings.     The  best  point  in  his  favour  is 
tliat  they  are  likely  enough  to  take  a  gentleman  if 
they  must   have  a  leader.     But  there  still  remains 
the  question  whether  he  can  make  anything  out  of 
the  material." 


mahcella. 


80 


(( 


I  h 


|ope  to  0,„i  l,e  can't !  "  ,aM  tho  old  ^enoral, 


vers  of 


yours  that 


grimly;    "it  is  these  tovvn-ohatte.. 


ads  before  we've 


saw 


In  the  drawing-room  Wharton  devoted  liimself  for 
a  few  n,„,,,tes  to  his  hostess,  a  little  nushi^Hvonnr 
>WK,„onhded  to  hi»  apparently  attonfve  ear'a  s  S 
0  K'  nances  as  to  the  bad  manners  of  the  great  hd  es 
o    the,r  eonnnon  party,  and  the  general  evU  pi  'hf o 

o  t fe  '  ^  ^f  ">emselve3  airs-™*-c„to,„  airs! 
-o.  they  ,ulm,t  everybody!"  she  said,  with  a  lavish 
use  of  white  shonlders  and  scarlet  fin  by  Vav  of 
emphas..  "My  hnsband  feels  it  .inst  as  n^JHs  I 
'lo.  It  IS  a  real  misfortune  for  the  mrtv  tt..,t  * 
soo.al  affairs  should  be  so  villainonsl^nS^^ed     Oh^ 

r  rs-:  'tt'H'  ^-  ^^''"'-'  ^-- '- 

,H1I  Ji  ,.       '  ^  ''■'™''''  y°"'  "'"se  of  us  who 

sWI^beheve  ui  the  .nflnence  of  the  best  people  don" 

A  point  whence  Wharton  easily  led  her  thro„»l,  . 
-nes  of  spiteful  anecdotes  bearing  L  h     otr  f   ,'1 
"..shaps  and  rebuffs,  which  were  none  the  ILi 
m.nat,ng  bee»se  of  the  teller's  anxious  etrt      ;':; 

^z:  tfnorbe?t.t:f  "^*"  "■,■■■  '^'''^"'  ^ 

he  took  hit  "^  !  "■"  ""^  '""S^'  --""^ing, 

ne  took  his  leave,  exchanging  another  skirmishin, 
word  or  two  on  the  staircase  with  Lady  S^  "a  who 

.t_ap,.aredwas..goingon'.ashewai;a::i'':;t 


tU 


90 


MARCELLA. 


In  a  few  minutes  his  hansom  landcMl  him  at  tho 
door  of  a  great  mansion  in  Hcrkeh'y  Square,  where  a 
liu^'e  evening  party  was  proceeding,  given  by  one  of 
tliose  Liberal  hidies  whom  his  late  host(?s8  had  been 
HO  freely  denouncing.  The  lady  and  the  house  be- 
longed  to  a  num  who  had  held  high  office  in  the  late 
Administration. 

As  he  nuide  his  way  slowly  to  the  top  of  the 
crowded  stairs,  the  stately  woman  in  white  satin  and 
diamonds  who  was  "  receiving  "  on  the  landing  marked 
him,  and  when  his  name  was  announced  she  came  for- 
ward a  step  or  two.  Notliing  could  have  been  more 
flattering  than  the  smile  with  which  she  gave  him  her 
gloved  hand  to  touch. 

"  Have  you  been  out  of  town  all  these  Sundays  ?  " 
she  said  to  him,  with  the  slightest  air  of  soft  re])roach. 
"  I  am  always  at  home,  you  know  —  1  told  you  so !  " 

She  spoke  with  the  ease  of  one  who  could  afford  to 
make  whatever  social  advances  she  pleased.  Wharton 
excused  himself,  and  they  chatted  a  little  in  the  inter- 
vals of  her  perpetual  greetings  to  the  mounting  crowd. 
She  and  he  had  met  at  a  famous  country  house  in  the 
Easter  recess,  and  her  aristocrat's  instinct  for  all  that 
gives  savour  and  sharpness  to  the  dish  of  life  had 
marked  him  at  once. 

"  Sir  Hugh  wants  you  to  come  down  and  see  us  in 
Sussex,"  she  said,  stretching  her  white  neck  a  little  to 
speak  after  him,  as  he  was  at  last  carried  through  the 
drawing-room  door  by  the  pressure  behind  him.  "  Will 
you  ?  " 

He  threw  back  an  answer  which  she  rather  took  for 
granted  than  heard,  for  she  nodded  and  smiled  through 


MAHCKLLA. 


91 


Ml  at  tlio 
,  where  a 
jy  one  of 
liad  been 
house  be- 
ll the  late 

p  of  the 
satin  and 
[,'  marked 
came  for- 
Ben  more 
3  him  her 

ndays  ?  " 
reproach, 
u  so !  " 
afford  to 
Wharton 
the  inter- 
ig  crowd, 
se  in  the 
r  all  that 
life  had 

see  us  in 
,  little  to 
ough  the 
.    "Will 

took  for 
through 


it-Ht.ffen.ng  her  drlicato  face  the  moment  afterwards 
t<»  nic^t  tlH,  timid  rcnuirks  of  one  cf  her  husband's 
constituents -aske<l  by  Sir  Hugh  in  th.  streets  that 
atternoon-who  hapi^ened  to  present  her  with  the 
next  hand  to  shake. 

Inside  Wharton  soon  found  himself  brought  up 
aKumst  he  ex-Secretary  of  State  himself,  who  greeted 
^"'"/'ordutUy,  and  then  bantered  him  a  little  on  his 
coming  motion.  ^ 

''  Oh  1  shall  be  interested  to  see  what  you  make  of 

tJjr  '  ''  ^''^  ""  -'^-^^^V^- never  can 

have  -  till  you  can  agree  among  yourselves.     You  say 

you  want  the  same  thing  —  I  dare  sav  vnn'Il  ..ii 

\^  r.,.  i.\.wi  1    .         f^       ^  naic  say  you  li  all  swear 

It  on  In-iday  —  but  really  —  '' 

The  statesman  shook  his  head  pleasantl- 
"  The  details  are  a  little  vague  still,  1  grant  you  » 
said  Wharton,  smiling.  ^     ' 

"And  you  think  tiie  principle  matters  twopence 
without  the  details  V  I  have  always  found  that  the 
difficulty  with  the  Christian  command,  ^^e  ye  pe" 
lect       I  he  principle  doesn't  trouble  me  at  all  i '' 

speatrf  l"r'  ''"  '"'"'"^^  *'^""^'  l^-^^^l"the  two 
speakers,  and  for  a  second  or  two  the  portly  host  fol 

owed  with  his  eye  the  fair  profile  and  lih^buHt' 

hgure  of  the  younger  man  as  they  receded'from  1^ 

n   the   crowd.     It  was   in  his  mind  that   the    next 

wenty  years,  whether  this  man  or  that  turned  out  to 

be  important  or  no,  must  see  an  enormous  quicken  i^ 

of  the  political  pace.     He  himself  was  not  conscious 

o    any  jealousy  of  the  younger  men ;  but  neithe;    M 

tL:"  r'f  1.  ''"^^.  'T'  ^^^"'"^^"^^"^^  p— ^i^; 

J-nis  young  fellow,  with  his  ^'^v-<^^*■^T  w-  - 

J     if-ii  iiib  ^.Uicuy,  liis  energy,  and 


3  J  J 


92 


MARCELLA. 


his  Socialist  whims,  was  interesting  enough ;  and  his 
problem  was  interesting  — the  problem  of  whether  he 
could  make  a  party  out  of  the  heterogeneous  group 
of  which  he  was  turning  out  to  be  indisputably  the 
ablest  member.  But  what  was  there  certain  or  inevi- 
table  about  his  future  after  all?  And  it  was  the 
same  with  all  the  rest.  Whereas  the  leaders  of  the 
past  had  surely  announced  themselves  beyond  mis- 
take from  the  beginning.  He  was  inclined  to  think, 
however,  that  we  were  levelling  up  rather  than  level- 
ling down.  The  world  grew  too  clever,  and  leader- 
ship was  more  difficult  every  day. 

Meanwhile   AVharton   found   his   progress  through 
these    stately   rooms    extremely  pleasant.      He   was 
astonished  at  the  multitude  of  people  he  knew,  at 
the  numbers  of  faces  that  smiled  upon   him.     Pres- 
ently, after  half  an  hour  of  hard  small  talk,  he  found 
himself  for  a  moment  without  an  acquaintance,  lean- 
ing against  an  archway  between  two  rooms,  and  free 
to  watch  the  throng.     Self-love,  "that  froward  pres- 
ence, like  a  chattering  child  within  us,"  was  all  alert 
and   happy.     A  feeling  of   surprise,  too,  which   had 
not  yet  worn  away.     A  year  before  he  had  told  Mar- 
cella  Boyce,  and  with  conviction,  that  he  was  an  out- 
cast  from  his  class.     He    smiled   now  at  that   past 
7iaivet4  which  had  allowed  him  to  take  the  flouts  of 
his  country  neighbours  and  his  mother's  unpopularity 
with  her  aristocratic  relations  for  an  index  of  the  way 
in  which  ''society"  in   general  would   be   likely  to 
treat  him  and  his  opinions.     He  now  knew,  on  the 
contrary,  that  those  opinions  had  been  his  best  ad- 
vertisemejit.      Few  people,  it  appeared,  were  more  in 


MARCELLA. 


:li ;  and  his 
whether  he 
eous  group 
putably  the 
in  or  inevi- 
it  was  the 
iers  of  the 
eyond  mis- 
:l  to  think, 
than  level- 
md  leader- 

3S  through 
He  was 
I  knew,  at 
im.  Pres- 
:,  he  found 
ance,  lean- 
5,  and  free 
vard  pres- 
3  all  alert 
i^hich  had 
told  Mar- 
as  an  out- 
that   past 

flouts  of 

popularity 

f  the  way 

likely  to 

V,  on  the 

best  ad- 
i  more  in 


98 


demand  among  the  great  than  those  who  gave  it  out 
that  they  ^ould,  if  they  could,  abolish  the  great 
vef't  b^.7;«^  they're   not  enough  afraid  of  us- 

we  really  get  to  business -if  we  ever  do-1  shall 
not  be  coming  to  Lady  Cradock's  parties  " 

;'Mr.  Wharton,  do  you  ever  do  such  a  frivolous 
thing  as  go  to  the  theatre?"  said  a  pretty,  lan^I 

ng  creature  at  his  elbow,  the  wife  oi  a  /ondon  th  - 
atrical  manager.     "Suppose  you  come  and  see  us  in 

The  M„,3ter's  Wooing,'  first  night  next  Saturday 
I  ve  got  one  seat  in  my  box,  for  somebody  very  agree- 

^nyU^Y'' '  "^^^  '^  ''"^''''^  -'-  -^  ^P«e 

"Adorable!  Then  I  may  write  you  a  note  v  You 
don  t  have  your  horrid  Parliament  that  ni^ht  do 
you  ?  "  and  she  fluttered  on  ^    ' 

mr^^  Wharton  ?     said  a  severe  voice  at  his  elbow 

He  turned  and  saw  an  elderly  matron  with  the 
usual  matronly  cap  and  careworn  countenance  p't! 
ting  forward  a  young  thing  in  white,  to  whom  he 
bowed  with  great  ceremony.     The  lady  was  the  wif 

oL  orr."'^'^  '^''^'^  ^^  ^-'-^  ^'^^  f--ily.  a  K 
one  of  the   most  exclusive  of  her  kind  in   London 

loo^  rf  .*'''  '  "^""^  °*'  ^^^-^  «hy'^^««  and  bloom 
ooked  at  him  with  frightened  eyes  as  he  leant  agaTnst' 
the  wall  beside  her  and  began  to  talk.     She  wished 
h    would  go  away  and  let  her  get  to  the  girl  fr    nd 
who  was  waiting  for  her  and  signalling  to  Lr    cross 


ij 


94 


MARCELLA. 


II 


a  minute  or  tAvo  slie  liad  forgott 


;en 


au- 


the  room,     liut  i 

to  wish  anything  of  the  kind.     The  mixture  of 
daeity  with  a  perfect  self-command  in  the  manner  of 
her   new   acquaintance,  that   searching  lialf-mocking 
look,  wliich  saw  everything  in  detail,  and  was  always 
pressing  beyond  the  generalisations  of  talk  and  man- 
ners, the  lightness  and  brightness  of  the  whole  aspect, 
of  the  curls,  the  eyes,  the  flexible  determined  mouth^ 
these  things  arrested  her.     She  began  to  open  her 
virgin  heart,  first  in  protesting  against  attack,  then  in 
confession,  till  in  ten  minutes  her  white  breast  was 
heaving  under  the  excitement  of  her  own  temerity 
and  Wharton  knew  practically  all  about  her,  her  min- 
gled pleasure  and  remorse  in  "  going  out,"  her  aston- 
ishment at  the  difference  between  the  world  as  it  was 
this  year,  and  the  world  as  it  had  been  last,  when  she 
was  still  in  the  school-room  —  her  Sunday-school  — 
her  brothers— her  ideals  —  for  she  was  a  little  nun 
at  heart  — her  favourite  clergyman  —  and  all  the  rest 
of  it. 

"  1  say,  Wharton,  come  and  dine,  will  you,  Thurs- 
day, at  the  House  —  small  party  —  meet  in  my  room  ?  " 

So  said  one  of  the  party  whips,  from  behind  into 
his  ear.  The  speaker  was  a  popular  young  aristocrat 
who  in  the  preceding  year  had  treated  the  member 
for  West  Brookshire  with  chilliness.  Wharton  turned 
—  to  consider  a  moment  —  then  gave  a  smiling  assent. 

"  All  right !  "  said  the  other,  withdrawing  his  hand 
from  Wliarton's  shoulder  — "good-night!— two  more 
of  these  beastly  crushes  to  fight  through  till  I  can  get 
to  my  bed,  worse  luck  !  Are  any  of  your  fellows  here 
to-night  ?  " 


MARCELLA. 


95 


AVharton  shook  his  head. 
"  Too  austere,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  A  question  of  dress  coats,  I  should  think,"  said 
u  harton,  drily. 

The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

-  And  this  calls  itself  a  party  gathering-  in  a  radi- 
cal and  democratic  house  —  what  a  farce  it  all  is  '  " 

"Agreed:  good-night.*' 

And  Wharton  moved  on,  just  catching  as  he  did  so 
the  yes  of  his  new  girl  acquaintance  looking  back  at 
him  from  a  distant  door.  Their  shy  owner  witlidrew 
them  instantly,  coloured,  and  passed  out  of  sight 

At  the  same  moment  a  guest  entered  bv  the  same 
door,  a  tall  grave  man  in  the  prime  of  life,  but  already 

Aldous  Raeburn.  and  saw  also  that  the  master  of  the 
house  had  him  by  the  arm.  They  came  towards  him. 
talking.  The  crowd  prevented  him  from  getting 
effectually  out  of  their  way,  but  he  turned  aside  and 
took  up  a  magazine  lying  on  a  bookcase  near 

••  And  you  really  think  him  a  trifle  better  ?  "  said 
the  ex-minister. 

he".^i;  T'  ^'''''-''^'^^^^y  better-but  I  am  afraid 
he  will  hardly  get  back  to  work  this  session -the 
doctors  talk  of  sending  him  away  at  once  " 

-Ah.  well,"  said  the  other,  smiling,  '•  we  don't  intend 
It  seems  to  let  you  send  anything  important  up  to  the 
Lords  yet  awhile,  so  there  will  be  time  for  hiui  to 
recruit."" 

-'I  wish  I  was  confident  about  the  rer-ruiting,"  said 
Ka^urn  sadly.     ''He  has  lost  much  strength.    1  shall 

go    A\lth    them    to    tV'<-     It-^li'i'l      l^l-^-      r+     4-^  ^  r 

-      ,  ,      --  L-.    lUvi xaa  lakes  at  tiie  end  of  next 

week,  see  them  settled  and  come  back  at  once." 


.'til 


96 


MABCELLA. 


"  Shall  you  miss  a  sitting  of  the  commission  ^  "  asked 
ns   host      Both   he  and   Raeburn  were  members  o 
an  important  Labour  Commission  appointed  the  year 
be  ore  by  the  new  Conservative  government. 

Hardly  I  think,"  said  Raeburn,  "I  am  particularly 

anxious  not  to  miss  D 's  evidence  " 

And  they  fell  talking  a  little  about  the  Commis- 
sion and  the  witnesses  recently  examined  before  it 

'nd  I'n  :  r  r^^'^^  ^"  ^^  ^  ^'^«"P  «f  ladies, 
what  they  were  saying,  much  against  his  will.  More- 
over Raeburn's  tone  of  quiet  and  masterly  familiarity 
with   what  he   and   his   companion   were  discussing 

s^trfat^irsL^^^^^^^  ^^^^  --^^-  ^^-^ 

"Ah!  there  is  Lady  Cradock!"  said  Raeburn,  per- 
ceiving his  hostess  across  a  sea  of  intervening  faces, 
and  responding  to  her  little  wave  of  the  hand  "I 
must  go  and  get  a  few  words  with  her,  and  then  take 
niy  aunt  away." 

As  he  made  his  way  towards  her,  he  suddenly 
brushed  against  Wharton,  who  could  not  escape.  Rae- 
burn looked  up,  recognised  the  man  he  had  touched, 
flushed  slightly  and  passed  on.  A  bystander  would 
have  supposed  them  strangers  to  each  other 


CHAPTER   II. 

"IS  with  wJiicli  it  coneIii,lp,l  i       •'"  '*""°  "'«•"- 

-.•1.1  who  haa  been  th.oj:^JZ  ty  ^^T  '"  "" 
Jwcl  been  ilisooveied  to  be  -.  ti.  „  ^  ®  '"'°'"'"'  '"^ 
even  supposing  Mis,  iJovTe  1       1°""  •""'""'•'    *'<" 

-ne  in  the  k..a.!^I:^;,rtf,:f ;''>'-''* 
moment  of  givi„„  i,;,,,  ,,.     ,.      '"  "t''  /a«oe  at  the 

before,  by  th^e  hei;  I ,  j.  '1"'"!— -"  '^e  year 
about  the  b,.oken'^„gafn,™t  TZf  """''"''  ••"" 
of  the  look,  or  rathe,  t^'t'  f  ''"  '""''  '''"  »<»•« 
with  Raeb.;™  had"  a  Le™  nsT  """  "'  '""''  "'-- 
outstretched  hand  i„  a  :  r  I  tn^H  "°"  '""'  ''' 
hrst  occasion  of  their  aneetin  '  Ift  th^  '  ""  *' 
become  public  propertv    Wi  o  .  *°  '"''^''  bad 

think  she  /,«rti:X;';heTt  r  ^  '™"»^''  '» 
".oralist  might  have  so.n  th['  to  ''""^*  *'"'  «*«■» 
"f  taking  advantage  T'ZJ    '"^  °"  '""^  ^"'^J''^^ 

-itb  another  n,an>s\etLh«\Vso'rr  *"  '••""'*'• 
would  only  show  his  n,„oi   ■      •'°' 'be  stern  moralist 

actual  facts  of  flesh  n^orTrT  T  *^"^P  "■" 
be  or  any  one  else  have  had  tit,  «  "'"'"'''  ^""W 
she  had  ha„nen„,.  .„  u    .^f  '""'  ^arcella  Boyce,  if 


iaj)pe 


promised  to  nxarry?     That 


be  in  love  with  the 


man  ,sho  had 


VOL.  II.  -_  7 


't  Wtle  trifJe  had  been  left 


^  1,1 


98 


MARCELLA. 


out  in  the  arrangement.  It  might  have  worked 
througli  perfectly  well  witiiout;  as  it  hapi)ened  it  had 
broken  down.  Uealitks  had  broken  it  down.  Small 
blame  to  them ! 

"I  stood  fov  truth!''  he  said  to  himself  with  a  kind 
of   rage  — "that   moment    Avhen    I    held    her    in    the 
library,  she  lived.—  Kaeburn  offered  lier  a  platform, 
a  position}  /made  her  tliink,  and  feel.     I  lielped  her 
to  know  herself.     Our  relation  Avas  not  passion;   it 
stood  on  the  threshold  — but  it  was  real  — a  true  rela- 
tion so  far  as  it  went.     That  it  went  no  farther  was 
due  again  to  circumstances  —  realities  —  of  another 
kind.     That  he  should  scorn  and  resent  my  perform- 
ance at  Mellor  is  natural   enough.     If  Ave  Avere  in 
France  he  Avould  call  me  out  and  I  should  give  him 
satisfaction  Avith  all  the  pleasure  in  life.     But  Avhat 
am  /about?   Are  his  Avays  mine?   I  should  have  noth- 
ing left  but  to  shoot  myself  to-morroAv  if  they  Avere!  " 
He  Avalked  on  SAviftly,  angrily  rating  liimself  for 
those  symptoms  of  a  merely  false  and  conventional 
conscience  Avliich  Avere  apt  to  be  roused  in  him  by  con- 
tact Avith  Aldous  Kaeburn. 

"  Has  he  not  interfered  Avith  my  freedom  —  stamped 
his  pedantic  foot  on  me  —  ever  since  we  Avere  boys 
together !  I  have  OAved  him  one  for  many  years  —  noAV 
1  Juive  paid  it.     Let  him  take  the  chances  of  Avar! " 

Then,  driven  on  by  an  irritation  not  to  be  quieted, 
he  began  against  his  will  to  think  of  those  various 
occasions  on  which  he  and  Aldous  Kaeburn  had  crossed 
each  other  in  the  past  — of  that  incident  in  particular 
which  iVIiss  Kaeburn  had  roughly  recalled  to  Lady 
Winterbourne's  reluctant  memory. 


MAIWELLA.  gg 

Well,  and  what  of  if  v     n-  i    i 
ton  was  a  la,l  of  el  /  '  ™''""'"'  ^'''""'  '^^h"- 

"f  »om„  ,  >o    L  >v    r  7,7"°'  ?"'  ''"""S  ™  interval 

the  man  »f  importa,,,.,.  h    1  '  ^^  "''''''"'y 

je.,e,„ber  I  was  flattercl  t  e„      It  t  l        ■''"'"• 
tune  to  understii,,]  n  ^''''*'  o"^  s"""- 

conscience!"  ™''""S^  "^  "-o  Hobraistio 

Yes  — asitgalledhim  to  pecoUect      h«  i    i    , 
great  plasticity  for  a  ti,m>      h  7      '""'  ^''o'"' 

die  of  hia  Oxin,  ™  ™  an.f  R^t  '"f  "'  "^  """- 
Eaeburn's  influonoe  W      T    f  "^"''"^  'otters  and 

various  sera  *;:,„t,tWb'  "'f "  ''""  *'"™8'' 
-a  little  Iate..-h  0  1,  r^  tT"  r"''™""  '^'''^" 
the  mooi-s  above  Lonl,  Ff  ,        "'""'*'"»  '"''S"  o" 

-  that  sun/ keel  an  rr*^*"*  "'"■""'•^y-  ^^«" 
heen  Miss  jL^'^  '"■'  >''f  *^  ^«'^  ^vl'o  l,a,l 
inevitable?  A  1  Ird  ";  7,"™','' "''^^'''''S  ^  mc-e 
tl.e  softest,  most  sens  .ol^:t;.:stfr"'  ""'  """  °'' 
■nade  love  to.     The  thLTa  Tn  ''T  """"'^ 

snnnner,  in  the  blood-afliMe    o  ,        "•''-"'  ""^ 
impulse  to  eat  wben  v„  ,         ^'  "''''''"«'  ^^  the 

you  thirst.     bI    e  \rar   ™"f"^'  "'  """''  -'-" 
■^snies,  nhat  particular  harm  had  been 


i,. 


4ivl 


t       lip 


100 


MARC  ELLA. 


done,  wliat  ])artii!ular  hanu  could  have  been  done  witli 
such  a  (Cerberus  of  a.  husband?  As  to  the  outcry 
which    had    followed   one   special    incident,    nothin«' 


could  have  been  more  uncalled  1 


'or,  more  su|)(M'fluouH. 


Aldous  had  demanded  contrition,  had  said  stnmg 
things  witii  tiie  tlashin.i;  eyes,  the  set  moutli  of  a 
Cato.  And  the  cnl[>rit  liad  turned  obstinates  —  would 
repent  nothing  —  not  for  the  asking.  Everything  was 
argual)le,  and  Kenan's  doubt  as  to  whether  he  or 
Thc^ophile  Gautier  were  in  the  riglit  of  it,  would 
remain  a  doubt  to  all  time  — tliat  was  all  liaeburn 
could  get  out  of  him.  After  which  the  Hebraist 
friend  of  course  had  turned  his  back  on  the  offender, 
and  there  Avas  an  end  of  it. 

Tliat  incident,  however,  had  belonged  to  a  stage  in 
his  past  life,  a  stage  marked  by  a  certain  prolonged 
tumult  of  the  senses,  on  which  ho  now  looked  back 
with  great  composure.     That  tumult  had  found  vent 
in  other  adventures  more  emphatic  a  good  deal  than 
the  adventure  of  the  keeper's  wife.     He  believed  that 
one  or  two  of  them  had  been  not  unknown  to  Raeburn. 
Well,  that  was  done  with!     His  mother's  death  — 
that  wanton  stupidity  on  the  part  of  fate  —  and  the 
shock  it  had  somehow  caused  him,  had  first  drawn 
him  out  of  the  slough  of  a  cneap  and  facile  pleasure 
on  which  he  now  looked  back  with  contempt.     After- 
Avards,  his  two  years  of  travel,  and  the  joys  at  once 
virile  and  pure  they  had  brought  with  them,  joys  of 
adventure,  bodily  endurance,  discovery,  together  with 
the  intellectual  stimulus  which  comes  of  perpetual 
change,  of  new  heavens,  new  seas,  new  societies,  had 
loosened  the  yoke  of  the  flesh  and  saved  him  from 


MAliCELLA. 


101 


I,., .11-  1     ,  ,  Uiiwiir  niovwucnt  his  inotlw.. 

t.i'oo])s,  these  thincrg  ]io,i  „,.-,,,,.  -i     "  "^  "i<lH.>tiial 

00     ...ii.i,!,  e„„,„ea  as  they  ,vere  wT  he  't,       ';'; 
mova.sing  ,„.,s<,„al  success.     Passion  ,vn„l,i 
to  present  itself  i„  new  forms      T  '>""''' 

possession  of  l.in,  agah"  '       "  ™'  """  '"  *'''^'' 

th.^  when  \tr 'It",  ""^T"'  ""'  """'  ^-»"'"-l 
All       '"^"'  """   "'-^t  Ioii«  break  in  his  life   he  and 

,t^::-' It    ■■"*  "r""">-  ^'Sain,  m  ^ndon'or  el 

or"  'th    :h  „"'  ?™,  '^  ""^■^"'  "■«l-.tion  to 
lor^et  tlie  old  quarrel,  and  to  behave  with  eivilitv 
though  not  with  friendliness      As  tr,  1V1     7  ^' 

Hbt/-'  ;  he ',r:::t';":  '>7«'  "-  --T  of  the 
J       u  Ju  Held  iieai-d  it  — lie  reco-mised  in  if  h.o 

Boyce  in  bi  l,  T""""""  "^  l^^th  with  JIarcella 
H^ail^-s  lil'tr'  '"^^"■•'"-■'■^'^'"  -^-^-t-  A  mere 
faction  for  me  avhs  nnf  n,,  attracti- 


a  'PI 


the 


senses 


w 


ex{ 


^pt  so  far  tiiat  lor  every  normal 


102 


MAR  CELL  A. 


mail  and  woman  charm  is  cIkiiiii,  and  giu-^cr  is  hot  in 
tin'  month  anil  always  will  hi'!  What  I  [)layed  lor 
with  her  was  power  —  power  over  a  nature  that  piqued 
and  yet  by  natural  alHnity  l)elon<,'ed  to  luc  I  euuld 
not  have  retained  that  power,  as  it  happened,  by  any 
bait  of  passion.  Even  without  the  Hurd  affair,  if  I 
had  gone  on  to  approach  her  so,  her  whole  moral 
nature  would  have  risen  against  me  and  her  own 
treachery.  I  knew  that  perfectly  well,  and  took  the 
line  J  did  because  for  the  moment  the  game  was  too 
exciting,  too  interesting,  to  give  up.  For  the  le.o- 
ment!  then  a  few  days,  —  a  few  weeks  later  —  Good 
Lord  I  what  stuff  we  mortals  be !  " 

And  he  raised  his  shoulders,  mocking,  yet  by  no 
means  disliking  his  own  idiosyncrasies.  It  had  been 
strange,  indeed,  that  comjilete  change  of  mental  em- 
phasis, that  alteration  of  spiritual  axis  that  had 
befallen  him  within  the  first  weeks  of  his  parliamen- 
tary life,  nay,  even  before  the  Hurd  agitation  Avas 
over.  That  agitation  had  brought  him  vigorously  and 
profitably  into  public  notice  at  a  convenient  moment. 
But  what  had  originally  si)rung  from  the  impulse 
to  retain  a  hold  over  a  woman,  became  in  the  end 
the  instrument  of  a  new  and  quite  other  situation. 
Wharton  had  no  sooner  entered  the  House  of  Com- 
mons than  he  felt  himself  strangely  at  home  there. 
He  had  the  instinct  for  debate,  the  instinct  for  man- 
agement, together  with  a  sensitive  and  contriving 
ambition.  He  found  himself  possessed  for  the  moment 
of  powers  of  nervous  endurance  that  astonished  him 
—  a  patience  of  boredom  besides,  a  capacity  for 
drudgery,  and  for  making  tlie  best  of  dull  men.     The 


maucflla. 


103 


omons  woro  all  favourable,  sometimes  startlingly  so 
lie  was  no  longer  hampered  by  the  ill-will  of  a  com.tv 
or  a  lanuly  connection.      Here   in  this  new   world 
every  man  eounted  strictly  for  what,  in  the  parlia- 
">»'"tary  sense,  he  was   worth.     Wharton   saw  that 
owms    to    his    public    ai.peai-ances    during    the    tuo 
preceding  years,  he  was  noticed,  listened  to,  talked 
about   m    the    House,   from   the  «rst;    and  that  his 
position   m  the   newly-formed   though   still   loosely- 
boun<l  Labour  party  was  one  of  in.leiinite  promise 
Ihe  anxieties  and  pitfalls  of  the  position  only  madc^ 
It  the  more  absorbing. 

The  quick   elastic  nature  adjusted  itself  at  once. 

the  ability  to  forget  ~  to  sweep  the  miiul  free  of  every- 
thing irrelevant  and  superfluous.      Marcella  Boyce 
and  all  connected  with  her,  passed  clean  out  of  Whar- 
ton s  consciousness.     Except  that  once  or  twice  he 
said  to  himself  with  a  passing  smile  that  it  was  a 
good  thing  he  had  not  got  himself  into  a  worse  scrape 
at  Mellor      Good  heavens!   in  what  plight  would  a 
man  stand -a  man  with  his  career  to  make -who 
had  given  Marcella  Boyce  claims  upon  him!     As  well 
entangle  oneself  with  the  Tragic  Muse  at  once  as  with 
tnat  stormy,  unmanageable  soul ' 

past  haa  been  thrust  tack  upon  l,im,  both  bv  Lady 
Selma  s  talk  and  by  tl,e  meeting  witl,  Kaebu™.  To 
smart  indeed  once  more  under  that  old  ascendency 
of  Raeburn  s    was  to  be  provoked  into  thinking  Jf 

Kaeburn's  old  love. 


Where  Vvus  M 


iss 


pital  tr 


•ai 


B03 


iimg  must  be  up  by  now 


ee?     Surely  her  year  of  hos- 


.? 


104 


MAHCKLLA. 


He  tuni.Ml   into  St.  Junii's  Stivct,  stoppod  at  a  door 
not  far  from  tlip  I'alac..  end,  let  himM..lf  in,  and  groped 
Ills  way  to  tlie  seeond  Hoor.     A  sleiq.y  nian-.serv;int 
tum*'a  out  of  Ilia  room,  and   lindiir;  tliat  his  master 
was  n<.t   inelined  to  go  to  hM,  brought   lights  an<l 
Uiineral  water.     Wliarton  was  practically  a  teetotaller. 
Ho  had  tak(>n  a  whim  that  way  as  a  l)oy,  and  a  fcnv 
experiments  in  drunkenness    which  he  had  made  at 
college  had  only  eonlirmed  what  had  been  originally 
perhaps  a  piece  of  notoriety-hunting.     Jle  had,  ns  ;i, 
rule,  flawless  health ;  and  the  unaceustomed  headaches 
ana  nausea  which  followed  tlavse  occasional  <:<cesses 
had  disgusted  and  deterred  him.     He  shook  hims(df 
easily  fret^  of  a  habit  which  had  never  gained  a  hold 
upon  him,  and  had  ever  since  found  his  al)stinen(!e  a 
source  both  of  vanity  and  of  distinction.     Nothing 
annoyed  him  more  than  to  hear  it  put  down  to  any 
ethical  motive.     "  If  I  liked  the  beastly  stuff,  I  should 
swim  iu  it  to-morrow,"  he  would  say  with  an  angry 
eye  when  certain  acquaintance  — not  those  he  nuide 
at   Labour   Congresses  —  goaded    him  on  the   point. 
'•As    it   is,   why   should    I   make    it,   or   chloral,   or 
morphia,  or  any  other  poison,  my  nuister!     What's 
the  inducement  — eh,  you  fellows?" 
En  revanche  he  smoked  inordinately. 
*'Is  that  all,  sir,"  said  his  servant,  pausing  behind 
his    chair,    after    candles,    matches,    cigarettes,    and 
Apolhnaris  had  been  su))plied  in  abundance. 

"Yes;    go   to   bed,  AVilliams,   but   don't  lock  ui, 
Good-night." 

The  man  departed,  au'l  ^Vharton,  ■,oir;g  to  the  win- 
dow which  oi)ened  .;•.  ,i  balcony  looking  over  St.  James 


MAliCKLLA, 

wiuv.  .  .1(1  sinokcd  a  cif'aivttf.  1 


105 


Stn  ,  t,  throw  it 
ftKi'inst  tlio  Willi.  •  It 
aijci  warm,  thou^'Ii  fho 
y<'^outot(lH   air.     In  tliJ  stiv«>t  1 
a  {,'00(1  (leal  of  nio\ 
JJiidni.t^lit  ,11(1  the  cjal 


was  on  the  whol..  ;,  ti 


caniiiL' 


"g 


m*  night 

HI]'  oi'  the  cast  wind  wtis  not 

H'low  tht'iv  was  still 

<'"J''"^  «'>i'  it  was  only  jast  past 


).S  w 


♦'IV  not  y»'t  empty.     To  1 


'•'K'lit  the  turivtcd  Kate-house  of  the  I'al 


lis 


dock 


I'Dso  dark  against  a   sky 


:M'e#vith 


•overed    with    li-hl, 


aoonl.  ss  _  Ik,,  some  one  in  a  stupkl  silence.     Tlu., 

H.  .s  .M,l,n,,  ,,l„as,„.,..s  of  lie,,,     „..  ,,„,  „^^„  ,.     ° 
been  l,„n..stl.y  fjla,!  of  its  ...xtiiM-tion.  ^ 

,„il7'"'  '^  T'"""'  '■■''"  ''•'""'•"    '"  '■""{'■sso,!  to  I,i,ns,.lf 

•' \  '  At  e'     'M    '"■  '"""  "  "■    »'"-•  ""-  --kin  " 
An.l  It  can't  last  —  notliing  do.  's  " 

IVsently  1„.  laid  down  his  cigarette  a  moment  on 

o::t  "^''''■  ,'''*"''^'' •■"'•'''•''""■« '^-'-^t 

ook  o  ,t  a  let  01.      He  stoo,,e,l  ov,  ,■  the  lam,,  to  r.-ad 
^t.      It  „as  the  letter  whi,-],   Jiareella  Boyee  had 
Y'   -.  h,n.  .ome  two  or  throe  day.  after  th    hre  ^h 
of  Ir  engagement      That  faet  was    arely  n.entione 
.  t  the  I  eg.nnn.g  ot  ,t,  without  ,.x,,laM  .tion  orconn,.,., 
ofanyk.nd.     Then  the  h-tter  oontinu  d- 

that  V rr  "'T  ^'''  """■'«'  '""  '''    '  ""gl't  *•">■  all 

o.  ,   1    /  ;""  '*  '""'»  ''•■^™  be,  n  plain  to  us 

kt  ha  we  eould  never  rigl,tly  n,eet  ,giin.  ,  an 
ve>j  ,les  itute  jnst  now_an,l  I  cling  t ,  self-resn  ot 
as  thoUL'h  if.  v,.,:.  fl„.  ...,i,.  ,.,  •       ,  ,?  "  rtsjuot 

™-  "'''i  lining  left  iu,j.     Hut  that 


106 


MARCELLA. 


scene  in  the  past,  which  put  us  both  wrong  with 
honour  and  conscience,  has  surely  been  wipe/out  — 
thought- suffered  away.  I  feel  that  I  dare  now  say 
to  you,  as  I  would  to  any  otiier  co-worker  and  co- 
thmker— if  in  tlie  future  you  ever  want  my  work,  if 
you  can  set  me,  with  others,  to  any  task  that  wants 
doing  aid  tliat  I  could  do  — ask  me,  and  I  am  not 
likely  to  refuse. 

"But  for  the  present  I  am  going  quite  away  into 
another  world.  1  have  been  more  ill  than  I  have  ever 
been  in  my  life  this  last  few  days,  and  they  are  all, 
even  my  father,  ready  to  agree  with  me  tliat  I  must 
go.  As  soon  as  I  am  a  little  stronger  I  am  to  have  a 
year's  training  at  a  London  hospital,  and  then  I  shall 
probably  live  for  a  while  in  town  and  nurse.  This 
scheme  occurred  to  me  as  I  came  back  with  the  wife 
from  seeing  Kurd  the  day  before  the  execution.  I 
knew  then  that  all  was  over  for  me  at  Mellon 

"  As  for  the  wretched  break-down  of  everything  —  of 
all  my  schemes  and  friendships  here  —  I  had  better  not 
speak  of  it.  I  feel  that  I  have  given  these  village-folk, 
whom  I  had  promised  to  help,  one  more  reason  to 
despair  of  life.  It  is  not  pleasant  to  carry  such  a 
thought  away  with  one.  But  if  the  tool  breaks  and 
blunts,  how  can  the  task  be  done  ?  It  can  be  of  no 
use  till  it  has  been  re-set. 

''I  should  lik(;  to  know  how  your  ])lans  prosper. 
But  I  shall  see  your  paper  and  fol'low  what  goes  on  in 
Parliament.  For  the  present  I  want  neither  to  write 
nor  get  letters.  They  tell  me  that  as  a  probationer  I 
shall  spend  my  time  at  first  in  washing  glasses,  and 
polishing  bath-taps,  on  which  my  mind  rests ! 


MARCELLA. 


rong  with 
iped  out  — 
e  now  say 
ir  and  co- 
'j  work,  if 
;hat  wants 
I  am  not 

away  into 
have  ever 
3y  are  all, 
it  I  must 
to  have  a 
en  I  shall 
•se.  Tliis 
:  the  wife 
'ution.     I 

LI 

[ling  —  of 
oetter  not 
lage-folk, 
reason  to 
y  such  a 
eaks  and 
be  of  no 

prosper, 
oes  on  in 

to  write 
itioner  I 
sses,  and 


107 


If  you  come  across  my  friends  of  whom  I  have 

and  .n  '7"  V^'^"''  ^^"'^""•>^'  ^""^  ^^^i^J^  Craven- 
'Z  ;'«^ld  make  any  use  of  Louis  for  the  Labour 
Ckrnon,  I  should  be  grateful.  I  hear  they  have  ha 
bad  tunes  of  late,  and  .  ,.,.p,s  has  engaged  iLself  an 
-ants  to  be  married.  You  remember  Uold;  u  W  w 
-orked  at  the  South  Kensington  classes  together  al 
how  they  made  me  a  Venturist  ? 

"  Yours  very  truly, 

''Marcella  Boyce." 

oveTttr  ft' ''?™  "''  '"'"'''  "■"""S  a  wry  mouth 
over  some  of  its  phrases. 

^    -P./  ..  both  wrong  with  honour  and  conscience: 
One  more  recison  for  despair  of  life^ -^All  zaa,  ov.r 
for  me  at  Mellor'  —  deav^    de^rf      l,.  ? 

scheme.  Well,  perhaps  one  could  har.lly  expect  her 
to  show  a  sense  of  i.umour  just  then.  B„t  Xdoe" 
;«toe_so  often  leave  it  out  h,  these  splendid'^t: 

"Hullo!"  he  added,  as  he  bent  over  the  table  to 
look  for  a  pen ;  "  why  didn't  that  idiot  ^ive  „,e  these  - 

touched,  laj  a  pile  of  unopened  letters.  His  servant 
I'Hd  forgotten  to  point  then,  out  to  bin,.  0„  he  tin 
was  a  letter  on  which  Wharton  pounced  at  one  It 
was  addressed  in  a  bold  inky  baud,  and  he  took  to  be 
.■on,  Jfehennah  Wilkins,  M.K,  his  forn^er  colle  -  ,e  a 
t>.e  B.„nn,gham  Labour  Congress,  of  late  a  memT"  'f 
'iour  V/arion  staff,  and  as  such  a  daily  increasing 
:>gue  and  anxiety  to  the  Clurio,,',  proprietor. 


the 


I  J 


108 


MARCELLA, 


However,  the  letter  was  not  from  Wilkins.     It  was 
f mm   1 10  secretary  of  a  Midland  trades-union,  with 
whom  A\harton  h:ul  ahvady  been  in  communication, 
i  he  union   was  recent,  and  represented  the   as   yet 
eeble  organisation  of  a  metal  industry  in  process  of 
transition  from  tlie  home-workshoj)  to  the  full  fac 
tory,  or   Great    Industry   stage.     Tlie   conditions   of 
work    were    extremely  bad,  and    grievances    many; 
wages  were  low,  and  local  distress  very  great      The 
secretary,  a  young  man  of  ability   and  enthusiasm, 
wrote  to  Wharton  to  say  that  certain  alterations  in 
the  local  "payment  lists"  lately  made  by  the  em- 
ployers amounted  to  a  reduction  of  wages ;  that  the 
workers,  beginning  to  feel   the  heartening  effects  of 
their  union,  were  determined  not  to  submit  ^  that  bitter 
and  even  desperate  agitation  was  spreading  fast,  and 
tliat  a  iar-reachmg  strike  was  imminent      Could  they 
"oimt  on  tlie  support  of  the  Clarion  ?    The  Qlarion  had 
already  publishetl  certain  letters  on  the  industry  from 
a  bpecial  Commissioner -letters  which  had  drawn 
public  attention,  ami  had  been  eagerly  read  in  the 
district  itself.     Would  tlie  Clarion  now  -go  in"  for 
tliein  ?    Would  Mr.  Wharton  personally  support  them, 
1.1  or  out  of  Parliament,  and  get  his  friends  to  do 
the   same  ?     To  which  questions,   couched  in   terms 
extremely  flattering  to  the  ])ower  of  the  Clarion  and 
Its  owner,  the  secretary  appended  a  long  and  technical 
statement  of  the  situation. 

Wharton  looked  up  from  the  letter  with  a  kindlin- 
eye.  lie  foresaw  an  extremely  effective  case,  ])oth  for 
the  newspaper  and  the  House  of  Commons.  One  of 
the  clnel  capitalists  involved  was  a  man  called  Denny 


MARCELLA. 


109 


.    It  was 
ion,  with 
mication. 
B  as   yet 
rooess  of 
full  fac- 
itioiis   of 
!    many ; 
at.     The 
husiasm, 
itioiis  in 
the  em- 
that  the 
ffects  of 
at  bitter 
"ast,  and 
lid  they 
non  had 
ry  from 
drawn 
in  tlie 
in"  for 
't  them, 
s  to  do 
:  terms 
ion  and 
chnieal 

indlins 
otli  for 
One  of 
Denny, 


n  ho  had  been  long  m  the  Honse,  for  whom  the  owner 
of  the  Clarion  entertained  a  strong  personal  dislike. 
Denny  had  thwarted  him  vexatiously  -  luid  perhans 
c^m^IeMmridionlous-ononeo^twooc 
and  Wharton  saw  no  reason  whatever  for  forgivin^^ 
one  s  enemies  xmtil  like  Narvaez,  one  had  "shot  then^ 
a  1.        Ihere  would  be  much  satisfaction  in  making 
Denny  understand  who  were  his  masters.     And  with 
these  motives  there  n.ingled  a  perfectly  genuine  sym- 
pathy  with   the   "poor   devils"  in  question,  and  \ 
desire  to  see  them  righted.  ^       u  a 

"Somebody  must  be  sent  down  at  once,"  he  said  to 

Ti     a  ^^^P^"^^'"  ^^  ^-^^^ded,  with  discontent,  "it 
must  be  Wilkins."  ' 

For  the  man  who  had  written  the  articles  for  the 
Labo^.^  Clarion,  as  Special  Commissioner,  had  some 
three  weeks  before  left  England  to  take  connnand  of 
a  colonial  newspaper. 

Still  ,)ondering,  he  took  up  the  other  letters,  turned 
them  over -childishly  pleased  for  the  thousandth 
time  by  the  M.P.  on  each  envelope  and  the  number 
and  variety  of  his  correspondence -and  eagerly  chose 
out  three -one  from  his  bankers,  one  from  his  Lin- 
colnshire agent,  and  one  from  the  Clarion  office,  un- 
doubtedly this  time  in  Wilkins's  hand 

He  read  them,  grew  a  little  pale,  swore  under  his 
breath  and,  angrily  flinging  the  letters  away  from  him 
he  took  up  his  cigarette  again  and  thouo-ht 

The  letter  from  his  bankers  asked'^iis  attention 
in  stiff  terms  to  a  la.rgely  overdrawn  account,  and 
entn-ely  declined  to  advance  a  sum  of  mone^  for 
winch  he  had  applied  to  them  without  the  guarantee 


\\\ 


Ml 


110 


MARCELLA. 


.•J 


of  two  substantial  names  in  addition  to  his  own.  The 
letter  from  his  agent  warned  him  that  the  extraor. 
dinary  drought  of  the  past  six  weeks,  together  with 
th(i  general  agricultural  depression,  would  eertainly 
mean  a  large  remission  of  rents  at  the  June  quartcV 
day,  and  also  informed  him  that  the  holders  of  liis 
o.»-operativ(!  farm  would  not  bo  able  to  pay  their  half- 
yearly  interest  on  the  capital  advanced  to  them  by 
the  landloi'd. 

As  to  the  tiiird  letter,  it  was  in  trutli  nuich  more 
serious  than  thi;  two  others.     W'ilkins,  the  passionate 
and  suspicious  workjnan,  of  great  natural  ability,  wh. 
had  been  in  numy  ways  a  thorn   in  Wharton's  side 
since   the  beginning  of   his    public  career,  was  now 
member  for  a  mining  constituency.      His  means  of 
support  were  extremely  scanty,  and  at  the  opening  of 
the  new  Parliament  Wharton  had  offered  him  well- 
paid  work  on  tiie  Clarion  newspaper.     It  had  seemed 
to  the  proprietor  of  the  Clarion  a  way  of  'attaching  a 
dangerous  man  to  himself,  perhaps  also  of  controllfng 
him.     Wilkins  had  grudgingly  accepted,  understanif- 
mg  perfectly  well  what  was  meant. 

Since  then  the  relation  between  the  two  men  had 
been  one  of  perpetual  friction.  Wilkins's  irritable 
pride  would  yield  nothing,  either  in  the  House- or  in 
the  Clarion  ottice,  to  Wharton's  university  education 
and  class  advantages,  while  Wharton  watched  with 
alarm  the  growing  influence  of  this  insubordinate  and 
hostile  member  of  his  own  staff  on  those  labour  cir- 
cles from  which  the  Clarion  drew  its  chief  support. 

In  the  letter  he  had  just  read  Wilkins  announced 
to  the  proprietor  of  the  Clarion  that  in  consequence 


MA  li  CELL  A. 


Ill 


v^n.  The 
extraor. 
her  with 
Rortaiiily 
3  quarter 
■s  of  liis 
(dr  liiiH'- 
tlieju  by 

ch  more 
Lssionate 
ity,  wh  > 
n's  side 
>^as  now 
leans  of 
aning  of 
111  well- 
seemed 
idling  a 
trolling 
3rstand- 

Len  had 
rritable 
;e'or  in 
ueation 
d  with 
ate  and 
)ur  cir- 
port. 
ounced 
(Xuent^e 


of  the  "  scandalou,,  misnmnascuor.t  "  of  that  paper's 
hamllmg  of   a  eertuiu  fade   arbitration  which   In, 

wltr: '  ""',7''""r' "°"'" "-  '"■■«-  -'>«''™ 

wnte  foi     ,  and  l.egged  to  termi„ate  his  engaftemc.t 
|.t  «"ce,  there  being  „o  formal  agreeinent  l«tw 
nn^elf  a„,l    Vharto,,  as  to  length  of  notice  o„  ei  h" 
K  e.     A  hvely  attack  on  the  present  .nanagenient  a  „ 
future   prospeets  of  the    Cl.nio,,    foll„„.,,d,   toget^^ 
«;.th   the  threat  that  the   writer  wonhl  d     X 
hn,  hay    ,enceforwar,l  to  pron.ote  the  eause  of       ,e 
feun  r,val  organ  lately  started,  an,ong  s„eh  worki  g 
n.en  as  he  nught  be  able  to  inflnenee  *" 

Whf  ;r.!l  -"f '""'  ,""l"-^'"*'"=''''"  '""to !  '•  exe!ain,ed 

\\  ha.ton  alou.l,  us  he  stood  ehating  and  snmkin.^  by 

he  window       All  the   ,lifflc„,ti.,   „,,,,,   ^,,^   "  ;> 

..■eaeh  was  hkely  to  sow  in  his  path  stood  ont  b  for 

inm  in  clear  relief.  oeioie 

"  Penoma  lea.lership,  there  is  the  whole  problem  " 
he  sa,  to  „n,se,f  in  moody  despair.  "Can  I-mIe 
J  amell  _  make  a  party  and  keep  it  together  v    (■.,„  , 

.rif;,:  "  ^''"•'•°"--"  «"4k  .fAnenee  o'^;, 
the  Honse-eoeree  the  men  ;„  the  House?     If  „„ 
e  can   do   .something,  and   Lady   Cradoek  will     m 

onger  throw  me  her  .smiles.  If  not  the  game  is  ,  p 
l»th  for  me  and  for  then,.  Tl„.y  have  nl  eoh  i",  ' 
uo  e„,n.„on  infor.nation,  no  real  power.  Wi  oTj 
leader.,  hey  are  a  n.ere  set  of  l,alf-,.,I„eatea  fireV™! 
when  the  traine,!  mind  of  the  country  hnn  ou„  t 
cause  It  mnst,  and  .so  far  as  thev  have  h-,Zt 
behind  then,.  Without  ..«.«..,/„>f /'ir  a  .  t  ti: 
of  the  weakest  group  in  the  Hou.se.     Yet,  by  jlve  !  it 


looks  as  though  I  had 


not  the  gifti 


112 


MARCELLA. 


I 


And  he  looked  buck  with  passionate  chagrin  on  the 
whole  eonrse  of  his  connection  with  Wilkins,  his  un- 
availing concessions  and  small  humiliations,  his  belief 
in  his  own  tact  and  success,  all  the  time  that  the  man 
dealt  with  was  really  slipping  out  of  his  hands. 

•''Damn  the  fellow!"  ho  said  at  last,  flinging  his 
cigarette  away.  '^Well,  that's  done  with.  All  the 
same,  he  woultl  have  liked  that  Midland  job !  Ho  has 
been  hankering  after  a  strike  there  for  some  time, 
and  might  have  ranted  as  he  pleased.  I  shall  have  the 
satisfaction  of  informing  him  he  has  lost  his  oppor- 


By  Jove!  what 


tunity.     Now  then  —  Avho  to  send  ? 
about  Miss  Boyce's  friend  ?  " 

He  stood  a  moment  twisting  the  quill-pen  he  had 
taken  up,  then  he  hastily  found  a  sheet  of  paper  and 
Avrote  : 

"Dear  Miss  Boyce,  — It  is  more  than  a  vear  since  I 
have  heard  of  you,  and  I  have  been  wondering  with 
much  interest  lately  whether  you  have  really  taken  u[) 
a  nursing  life.    You  remember  speaking  to  me  of  your 
friends  the  Cravens  ?     I  come  across  them  sometimes 
at  the  Venturist  meetings,  and  have  always  admired 
their  ability.     Last  year  I  could  do  nothing  practical 
to  meet  your  wishes.      This  year,  however,  there  is 
an  opening  on  the  Clarion,  and  I  should  like  to  dis- 
cuss it  with  you.     Are  you  in  town  or  to  be  found  ? 
I  could  come  any  afternoon  next  week,  early  —  I  £ro 
down  to  the  House  at  four  — or  on  Saturdays.     But 
I  should  like  it  to  be  Tuesday  or  Wednesday,  that 
I  might  try  and  persuade  you  to  come  to  our  Eight 
Hours  debate  on  Friday  night.    It  would  interest  you, 
and  I  think  I  could  get  you  a  seat.    We  Labour  mem- 


MARCELLA.  J23 

"  Fours  sincerely, 

"H.  S.  Whakto^t." 

theTrter'tl  "'f  't'"'  '^  ''''''''^'  ^  n.o,.ent  over 
the  kttei,  the  play  of  conflicting  motives  and  niemorie 
bringing  a  vague  smile  to  the  lips  "memories 

iected  his  other  correspondents,  and  sprin-nn^  un  h. 

he  could  remember.     Lady  Mildred  would  snen    Z 
ui  MX  months  nito  wretched  Icxlffino-s  in   ., 

■■'  th.  lueseut  ,va.  „o  less  useful  to  a  Socialist 


Pi 


VOL.   II.  — 8 


poll 


114 


MAUCELLA. 


tKU.-in  tlian  to  any  oi.o  else.  In  tlio  i.oxt  i)l;u!o,  tho 
startin-  and  pusl.in-  of  tho  Clarion  lunvspapcr — 
originally  ]mivhaso(l  by  tlio  lu-lp  of  a  small  Xv^^nvy 
from  an  undo  — had  ononnously  inc-oasfd  the  scale 
of  his  monoy  transactions  and  tlu^  risks  of  life. 

How  was  it  that,  with  all  his  efforts,  the  Clurion  was 
not  makm-    but  losin-  money?     Durin-  the  three 
years  he  had  possessed  it  he  had  rais(>d  it  from  the 
position  of  a  small  and  foul-mouthed  ])rint,  indiffeivntly 
nourished  on  a  series  of  small  scandals,  to  that  of  a 
Labour  organ  of  some  importance.     He  had  written 
a  weekly  signed  article  for  it,  whiidi  liad  served  from 
the  beginning  to  bring  both  him  and  the  paper  into 
notice;  he  had  taken  pains  with  the  organisation  and 
improvement  of  the  staff;  above  all,  he  had  spent  a 
great  deal  more  mo^ey  upon  it,  in  the  way  of  premises 
and  appliances,  than  he  had  been,  as  it  turned  out,  in 
any  way  justified  in  spending. 

Hence,  indeed,  these  tears.  Rather  more  than  a  year 
before,  while  the  Clarion  was  still  enjoying  a  first  spurt 
of  success  and  notoriety,  he  had,  with  a  certain  reck- 
lessness which  belonged  to  his  character,  invested  in 
new  and  costly  machinery,  and  had  transferred  the 
paper  to  larger  offices.  All  this  had  been  done  on 
borrowed  money. 

Then,  for  some  reason  or  other,  the  Clarion  had 
ceased  to  answer  to  the  spur  — had,  indeed,  during 
the  past  eight  months  been  flagging  heavily.  The 
outside  world  was  beginning  to  regard  the  Clarion  as 
an  important  paper.  AVhartoii  knew  all  the  time  that 
Its  advertisements  were  falling  off,  and  its  circulation 
declining.     Why?     Who  can  say  ?     If  it  is  true  that 


MAliCELLA. 


115 


linoks  have  thoir  fates   if-  i^  cfiii 

^"■u,  ot  tlio  givat  ,„iioiis.  i.Kl  (ilclieil  tl.A  n,     ■     , 

■"ajority  of  working  ,„..„  ';';,'.   'il.'"'^''  *''" 
I'cails,  a.Hl  will  roJ.,"l  "'"■  ™*«  "'■  l'l"'l'- 

tli.in   the   man  whose   one  ambition   .t   li 
;~.asto.e.l..ee,teX.;t*:;i;-- 

of  debt  that  is  not  Pn,ilv  i/    1  "  ""■"•  *"  '•'  ^ind 

'-  bankers  ha  th"   d  t^l    "'"*■,"-    ""  "^^  ^^""1»' 

as  he  walked  his  r-nrU.  >.     i        ,       ^        •^"^^'  P^an 
from  I  isLincoLw^L™''"'""'   '"''''"'^"'   '"""S'' 

pwo,™phs::r:::r:ri-:,t:^^^ 

.>a"T.tr;TS,r:,;r;-f  ^^^^^^^     -lU.  an  in,. 
l'i»  thongl.ts  away  1V„,„  LI       "■"'"'  ''°>-'  ''^  «"»« 

the  "  x-r?'"  «^'™,,^'^"-"«^  too  tires„n,e  I.re.  wh, 
""■  ii(\t  .-.teamei-   »-,li  take  „;e  out  of  it  i     i.-,      " 
9or,eous  tin.e  we  ha.,  on  that  .-laeto !  "        '     '  '"'  " 


11(3 


MAnCKLLA. 


li 


He  stood  looking  at,  a,  s,,I,M,.li,l    pl,„t.),M-n,,l,    „f  a 

lollow.n,^  lus  .nntluT's  doath,  ho  h:ul  spn.t,  four  n.onM.s 
with  an  oxplorin.,'  party.     Tlu,  plat,  hud  (.uu^ht  tho 
very   gram  and  .list.n  of  th.  snou-,  tho  vory  sh.on 
and  tint  of  tho  ice.     Ho  ronld /../   tho  a/nro  of  tho 
sk.v,    tho    breath  of  tho   nio.mtain  uMn<l.      T1h>    m,-ui 
seated  on  tho   halder  over  that  bottomless  orevas'so 
was  hnnself.     And  there  u-ero  tho  gui<h,s,  two   fr"  ,n 
Uianunimx,  one  from  (Jrin.hdwahl,  and  that  hno  yonnL^ 
tellow  th.  son  of  the  ehkr  Cluunonnix  gnhb,  whom 
they   had  lost  by  a  stone-shower  on  that  nameless 
peak  towering  to  the  left  of  the  glacier.     A  I,  those 
had  been  years  of  Ufe,  those  }Vanae>'jalvre!     Tfo  ran 
over  the  photographs  with  a  kind  of  greed,  his  mind 
meanwhile  losing  itself  in  oovetons  memories  of  foamy 
seas,  of  long,  low,  tropical  shores  with  their  scattered 
palms,  ot  snperb  rivars  sweeping  with  soiftid  and  fnry 
round  innumerable  islands,  of  great  buildings  ivory 
white  amid  the  wealth  of  creepers  which  had  pulled 
them  into  ruhi,  vacant  now  for  ever  of  the  voice  of 
man,  and  ringed  by  untrodden  forests. 

Cathay,      he  thought.     -  Ah !  but  how  much  did  the 
man  who  wrote  that  know  about  Cathay '->" 

And  with  his  hands  thrust  into  his  pockets,  he 
stood  lost  awhile  in  a  flying  dream  that  defied  civilisa- 
tion and  Its  cares.  How  well,  how  indispensable  to 
remember,  that  beyond  these  sweltering  streets  where 
wo  choke  and  swarm,  Cathay  str.ids  always  waiting  t 
Somewhere,  while  we  toil  in  the  gloom  and  the  crowd' 
there  is  air,  there  is  sea,  the  joy  of  the  sun,  the  life  of 


••  HOV.T ver  "  ->  he  turned  on  his  heel      ^. 
tiT  .'i  ft'W  other  trifles  first     \Y     .  .       ""    '"^'J^'^'"  ^'^ 
--on-t  have  gone  to  tdTet : '  ""' ''  ^^'-^^'^^-'^ 

He  took  out  hi«!  w-if/t.   +^v 
-il«.  a.d  made  te  ;,;":;,  ^^f'*---^-"  I'-  '-.- 

extremely  select  v-},pt..  >  •        ''  ^^"^^^^-'^    .suiall.  and 

and  tender.  ar,d  hi.  ^„ti,,,-,  rZtZtTX    f  '""'"^ 
l-oj^  of  .=:natehili£r  l,i,„  . .      ,        ,"""'  "'^'  'liw-ished 

Tie  front*  ,Zf <'';;:;," '?'  It  "'^  ""'■'■"«■ 

He  passed  on  to  ti.  tk     ^^  .t™'''- ' '""  ^""■ 
i"  tie  Tiassace   <ife„„„i   i     ,     ""'"-''''e]»T  stationed 

d»or.     It  eosed  iw'1,    TI"'"^  """"''■^-  "I-e<l  u 
found  Mm    "  n  a     o;^;;;'^''""'  ""'"■  -"   "•'--<". 

taUes.  tbe  eleotrie   la.njl  W ':""\:.r''-:  T  ^''^ 
eve.T  detail  of  tl,e  scene  with%u  ''''""'« 

dis^Aanting  glare.  ''™''   »«a>-elnug 

<la.hevSled''w:''BvC'^.fl:'"'''"''-'  '^""'' '  '^'^^  "^ 
ieade,  _  niake  ro™    "  ■^''*  ''"""'^  '^-^  •'^'''"'ur 

aot:i2it:::'r;  ^ "  r'-*-'^-  -  -^  'j-™ 

iepntnng.    Htrt^f !;, .::;^!!'-  ""'  "«"  -as  just 


felt  in  liis  j)ocket.v  f 


^liCi    Kiiming.   followed 


every    jnotion    oi    tl 


es. 


J* 


118 


MAnCKLLA. 


.It'iilor's  han.l.  For  tluvc  yours  now,  ever  since  his 
return  from  Ins  travels,  the  KMnibU.r's  passion  hail 
been  stoalinj;  on  him.  Ahvady  this  season  he  lia<l 
lost  and  won  -  on  the  whole  lost  -  lar^e  sums.  And 
the  faet  was  — so  far  — absolutely  unknown  exci^.t  to 
the  men  with  whom  he  played  in  this  room. 


CHAPTER   in. 


an'  it  „1,  save  yer  a  ionlZj""  "  '""'"' ''"' 

a^nln"'  I't"'  "■'"'  '""««-'"«>'  at  her  adviser- 

hlwkV  ^      "  ""''"""'"  ^'-'P  ""J  keen  as  I 

-lilirit/lif.''';""/™'  i""'  ""^^  y°"  -«'«■ 

dootor."       '     ''  ""''  """ '  '"*  ^"y  "^  "■   Imt  the 
-ht:;t,f  w  f'  '7'"  ""  ■■'"  ""'^■"  "»™''-''  «.e  bed 

to'i'v:rp':gTi;f  IT "'"  *''  ''°^'  ^''""•^•'  ^^^---^ 

cries,  ,.!.eifXCL:r:^r.""'*'''^'"'^''''''^' 
1us?htr''""'i"'"'"  '="''  ^'^''-^^'l^'  «'»ly;  "it  has 

c;tt:.°'-  ^"^  ^"^^''  '"™^'  '^-'■>>  -<•  >et  t" 


cella  wl 


10 


was  just  about  to  leave  the 


s  eye 

I'OOJU. 


Mar. 


119 


120 


MARCELLA. 


"Now  look  'ere,  Kuss/'  he  sai.l  in  a  tone  of  pityin- 
remonstrance,  "yer  never  a  goin'  down  to  that  'ere  coal 
cellar  without  a  light.  Yer'll  'ave  to  come  runnin'  up 
all  them  stairs  again  — sure  as  I'm  alive  yer  will !  " 

And  darting  to  a  cupboard  he  pulled  out  a  grimy 
candlestick  with  an  end  of  dip  and  some  matches,  dis- 
posed of  them  at  the  bottom  of  the  coal-scuttle  tliat 
Marcella  carried  over  her  left  arm,  and  then,  still 
masterfully  considering  her,  let  her  go. 

Marcella  groped  her  way  downstairs.      The  house 
™  one  of  a  type  familiar  all  over  the  poorer  parts  of 
West  Central  London -the  eighteenth-century  house 
inhabited  l)y  law  or  fashion  in  the  days  of  Dr  John 
son,   now   parcelled   out   into    insanitary  tenements, 
miserably  provided  with  air,  water,  and  all  the  neces- 
saries of  life,  but  still  showing  in  its  chimney-piece  or 
Its  decaying  staircase  signs  of  tlie  graceful  domestic 
art  which  had  ruled  at  the  building  and  fitting  of  it. 
Marcella,  however,  had   no    eye   whatever   at   the 
moment  for   the   panelling   on    the   staircase,  or  the 
delicate  ironwork  of  the  broken  balustrade.     Rather 
It  seemed  to  her,  as  she  looked  into  some  of  the  half- 
open  doors  of  the   swarming   rooms   she  passed,  or 
noticed  with  disgust  the  dirt  and  dilapidation  of  the 
stairs,  and  the  evil  smells  of  the  basement,  that  the 
house  added  one  more  to  the  standing  sbames  of  the 
district  — an   opinion  doubly  strong  in  her  when  at 
last  she  emerged  from  her  gropings  among  the  dens 
of  the  lower  regions,  and  began  to  toil  upstairs  again 
with  her  filled  kettle  and  coal-scuttle. 

The  load  was  heavy,  even  f<,r  her  young  strength, 
and  she  had  just  passed  a  sleepless  night.     The  even- 


'g 


1 

I 

t 

] 

i 


MAIiCELLA.  221 

ing  before  she  had  been  spnf  f,.,.  •     i      . 

in  des„e,.ate  illnes       Sh      ,  .   "' Tf    *°,  "  ™™™ 

Jewess,  with  a  to,,  da,.,  „M  I^M  be'rl:  'r""-' 

turns  at  lioldiiiff  the  iritiVnf  o  ^  ^'"^f^^."'  '^^^  taking 
rolling  between  «^  C  '  ^l^t  "tr^^  ^"^^- 
iirst  and  arduous  duty  o  .p/.1  i  "  Marcella's 
«lio  i,n  1    1  -^        ^®^  *^^6  place  cleared  nnrl 

nS  he  Te;;:.;;o'°"'  ^™-  -■''"«  '^^  vo^ie " 

wash  he.,  patient  and  retake    ,      J.*,  \™\*" 

husband  looked  down  umm  f)T  \  ?  ''"  "'"'  *'"' 
about  six-and-twe,;  I  e  '  d  " -  '  "  ™"""  "' 
feep,  he,,  .natted  bl.^V  h     .:    hS     hLik  ^7''^ 

-..ue.,Xo.;:;rt!!s,~t:^™ 

''^c/<,  mem  Goff,  mem  Gott"'  <,^\^   m      i     ^ 
nsing  and  shaking  hin.self.     H,;  waT    J  I'f  "    ;^"'' 
^'^an  Pohuul,  and.  unlilc.  most  of]-         '^"^^^^"^"^  ^^^ 


with    the   make   and 


the  muscles  of 


I'ace,  a  liuge  man, 


If. 


a  prize-fighter. 


122 


MAliCELLA. 


li 


Yot,  after  tlio  stnigivie  of  tlio  last  two  hours  he  was  in 
u  batli  of  perspiration. 

'•  You  will  have  to  send  her  to  the  infirmary  if  this 
conies  on  again,"  said  Marcella. 

The  husband  stared  in  helpless  misery,  first  at  his 
wife,  then  at  the  nurse. 

"You  will  not  go  away,  mees,"  he  implored,  "you 
will  not  leaf  me  alone  ?  " 

Wearied  as  she  was,  IMarceila  could  have  smiled  at 
the  abject  giant. 

"  No,  I  will  stay  with  her  till  the  morning  and  till 
the  doctor  comes.     You  had  better  go  to  bed." 

It  was  close  on  three  o'clock.  The  man  demurred  a 
httle,  but  he  was  in  truth  too  worn  out  to  resist.  He 
went  into  the  back  room  and  lay  down  with  the  children. 

Then  Marcella  was  left  through  the  long  summer 
dawn  alone  with  her  patient.     Her  quick  ear  caught 
every  sound  about   her  — the   heavy  breaths  of  the 
father  and  children  in  the  back  room,  the  twittering  of 
the  sparrows,  the  first  cries  about  the  streets,  the  first 
movements  in  the  crowded  house.     Her  mind  all  the 
time  was  running  partly  on  contrivances  for  pulling  the 
woman  through  — for  it  was  wJat  a  nurse  calls  "a 
good  case,"  one  that  rouses  all  her  nursing  skill  and 
faculty  — partly  on  the  extraordinary  misconduct  of 
the  doctor,  to  whose  criminal  neglect  and  mismanage- 
ment of  the  case  she  hotly  attributed  the  whole  of  the 
woman's  illness;  and  partly  — in  deep,  swift  sinkings 
of  meditative  thought  —  on  the  strangeness  of  the  fact 
that  she  should  be  there  at  all,  sitting  in  this  chair  in 
this  miserable  room,  keeping  guard  over  this  Jewish 
mother  and  her  child ! 


MARCELLA. 


123 


The  year  in  hospital  had  rus/^erZ- dreamless  sleep 
by  ni-ht.  exhausting  fatigue  of  mind  and  body  by  day 
A  hospital  nurse,  if  l,er  work  seizes  her,  as  it  had 
seized  ]\rarcella,  never  thinks  of  herself.  Xow  for 
some  SIX  or  seven  weeks  she  had  been  living  in  rooms, 
as  a  district  nurse,  under  the  control  of  a  central  office 
aud  superintendent.  Her  work  lay  in  the  homes  of 
the  poor,  and  was  of  the  most  varied  kind  The  life 
was  freer,  more  elastic ;  allowed  room  at  last  to  self^ 
consciousness. 


m 


But  now  the  night  was  over.  The  husband  had 
gone  off  to  work  at  a  factory  near,  whence  he  could  be 
summoned  at  any  moment;  the  children  had  been  dis- 
posed of  to  Mrs.  Levi,  the  helpful  neighbour :  she  her- 
self had  been  home  for  an  hour  to  breakfast  and  dress 
had  sent  to  the  office  asking  that  her  other  cases  mi^ht 
be  attended  to.  and  was  at  present  in  sole  charge,  with 
iienny  to  help  her.  waiting  for  the  doctor. 

When  she  reached  the  sick-room  again  with  her 
burdens,  she  found  Benjamin  sitting  pensive,  with  the 
oroom  across  his  knees. 

''Well,  Benny!-'  she  said  as  she  entered,  "how 
have  you  got  on  ?  "■ 

"Yer  can-t  move   the   dirt  on  them  boards  with 
sweepm',"  said  Benny,  looking  at  them  with  disgust; 
an  I  am't  a  goin' to  try  it  no  more." 

"You're  about  right  there,  Benny,"  said  Marcella 
mournfully,  as  she  inspected  them ;  '•  well,  we'll  get 
Mrs  Levi  to  come  in  and  scrub -as  soon  as  your  mother 
can  bear  it. " 


She  stt 


pped  up  to  the  bed  and  looked  at  her  patient. 


124 


MAliCKLLA. 


pss  i)ros- 


who  seemed  to  be  parsing  into  a  state  of  resth  ..  ,,... 
tratioi,   more  or  less  muler  tlie  influence  of  morphia 
Mareella  fed  her  with  strong  beef  tea  made  by  herself 
(luring  the  niglit,  and  (h-bated  wliether  slie  slionld 


i)r;in( 


give 


iy.     No  ~ cither  the  docter  woiUd  come  directly 


or  slie  would  send  for  1 


yet.  and  her  lij)  curled  at  th 


lim.     Slie  had  not  S63en  1 


nm 


iiad  ordered 


e  thought  of  him.     Re 

a  nurse   the   night   before,  but  had  not 

hei 


stayed  to  meet 

make  out  his  instructions  from  the  husband  as  best  she 
could. 

Benny  looked  up  at  her  with  a  wink  as  she  went 
back  to  the  tire. 

''I  didn-t  let  none  o'  them  in,"  he  said,  jerking  his 
tiunib  over  his  shoulder.  ''  They  come  a  whisperhi'  at 
the  door,  an'  a  rattlin'  ov.  the  handle  as  soon  as  ever  you 
gone  downstairs.  But  I  tole  'em  just  to  take  tlieir- 
selves  off,  an'  as  'ow  you  didn't  wanf'em.     Sillies  '" 

And  taking  a  crust  smeared  with  treacle  out  of  his 
pocket.  Benny  returned  with  a  severe  air  to  the  suckino- 
ot  it.  * 

Marcella  laughed. 

-Clever  Benny,"  she  said,  patting  his  head;  "but 
why  aren't  you  at  school,  sir  ?  " 

Benjamin  grinned. 

"  -Ovy  d'yer  s'pose  my  ma's  goin'  to  git  along  without 

me  to  do  for  'er  and  the  babby  ?"  he  replied\slily 

••^\  ell,  Benny,  you'll  have  the  Board  officer  down 
on  you." 

At  this  the  urchin  laughed  out. 
"  Wliy,  'e  wor  here  last  week !    Ee  can't  be  troublin' 
isselt^  about  this  'ere  bloomin'  street  e^;ery  day  in  the 


L 


MARCELLA. 


;less  pros- 
morphia. 
)y  liorself 
oil  1(1  j^ive 
directly, 
seen  him 
liin.     He 
Iiad  not 
)liged  to 
'  best  she 

he  went 

king  his 
perin'  at 
Bver  you 
:e  their- 
llies!" 
b  of  his 
sucking 


"but 


vithout 
'  down 


oublin' 
in  tlie 


125 


There  was  a  sliari,  knock  at  the  door 

'The   doctor,"  she  said,  as  her  face  dismissed  the 

't:  :w^:  T  ^"^'^  "  ^^^^^^  "^°"  ^^  ^-  ^  -^^- 

J.VIUJ  ,iM  ay,  x^ennv, 

B^ny  opened  the  d„  ..,  looked  the  doctor  oooUy  up 
and  down,  „nd  then  .-ithdrew  to  the  la.din,,  where  l"'^ 
s.st.m  were  waiting  to  play  with  hin,. 

face  It?;:;:  *•'"  Tf  ''""''  "'"'  ■■'  ■■"•'  W'-™' 
tace  and  a  fair  moustache,  walked  in  hurriedly  and 

stared  at  the  nurse  standing  by  the  fire 

Ml?n""T«°"'  *"  •^*-  ■^'"■""■^  Association?" 
-Marcella  stiiflv  lenlie.i      i-r„  ^    1    1 

chirt  fro,,,  1       ,      ,  °°^  '"■'■  traiperature- 

Cart  f  om  her  hand  and  asked  her  some  questions 
about   he  n,ght,  staring  at  her  from  time  to  time     ith 

™u  'tf t''^"',t'"'-  "''-'-'"'y  ^--^  -»" '  n 

pafent.     The  edge  on  the  words,  for  all  their  „r.,fes 
s.onaI  qn.et  was  unmistakable.     She  saw  him  C 

He  moved  towards  the  bed,  and  she  went  wkh  hL 
i  he  woman  moaned  as  he  approached  her.  lest 
about  h,s  business  with  hands  that  shook.  Ma  ee  a 
deeded  at  once  that  he  was  not  sober,  and  wa      ed 

m  nt'^P:':"?,  ^'f  '----«  disgusi  and  :^t 
ment.     Presen  ly  she  could  bear  it  no  longer. 

1  tliink,    she  said,  touching  his  arm    ■■  fl,.,t 

had  better  leave  it  to  me-andlg„  aC- ■/'"'*  '"" 

He  drew  himself  up  with  a  start  which  sent  the 

things  he  held  flying,  and  faced  her  liercelv 

yo^r  ptte?-.  '°"  """■  "  '''  '''''  ""^-''y™  •-""• 


126 


maucmjlla. 


Hi 

Mi 


"  Yes  —  I  know  my  place  ! " 

Then  with  a  composure  as  fearless  as  it  was  scath- 
"gshesaul  what  she  had  to  sa,y.  She  knew -ami 
lie  could  not  deny  _  that  he  had  endan.^ered  his 
patient's  hfe.  She  pointed  out  that  he  was  in  a  fair 
vay  to  endanger  it  again.  Every  word  she  said  lay 
absolutely  within  her  sphere  as  a  nurse.  His  cloudy 
brain  cleared  under  the  stress  of  it. 

Then  his  eyes  flamed,  his  cheeks  became  purple, 
and  Marcella  thought  for  an  instant  he  would  hav 

nd  tik";  ''''''''  '^  '"""^  ^^^^"  ^-  «^--^-^ff 

and  walked  away. 

"  You  understand,"  he  said  thickly,  turning  upon 
her,  w,th  his  hat  in  his  hand,  "  that  I  shall  not  attend 
this  case  again  till  your  Association  can  send  me  a 
nurse  that  will  do  as  she  is  told  without  insolence  to 

woifL^ti^'r^^rjen^rr''^''^""''^-  "-"^'^^ 

He  passed  her  sneering  : 

"A  precious  superioi-  lot  you  lady-nurses  think 
yourselves  I  dare  say.  I'd  sooner  have  one  old  gan.p 
tlian  the  whole  boiling  of  you  !  " 

i^arcella  eyed  him  sternly,  her  nostrils  tightening. 
"Will  you  go?"    she  said.  ^ 

He  gave  her  a  furious  glance,  and  plunged  down 
the  stairs  outside,  breathing  threats 

Marcella  put  her  hand  to  her  head  a  moment,  and 
drew  a  long  breath.  There  was  a  certain  piteousness 
in  the  action,  a  consciousness  of  youth  and  strain 

llien  she  .aw  that  the  landing  and  the  stairs  above 


MARCEL  LA. 


s 


were   beginiiino-   to   fill 
eagerly  peering  and  t; 


wit!)   (lark-J 


ilkii 


In 


127 

uiired    Jewesses, 
,  :    '  ^  " ^l:l.vl.,^.     _iu  another  niinnfp  nr 

sharply,  "  Benny  !  "  ^'^^^^*^ 

Instantly  Eenny  appeared  from  the  landing  above 

elbowing  the  Jewesses  to  right  and  left.  '  ' 

What  IS  It  you  Avant,  Kuss  ?    No,  she  don't  wmt 

none  o'  you  ~  there  !  "  ^ 

And  Benjamin  darted  into  the  ron,n    n,,  i 

:=.;;"?.•;;•.;'- » •-.-;;■::; 

"LetinMrs.  Levi,  please." 
H.J'l'^'r'  '"^'elibour,  who  had  been  taking  care  of 
the  children,  was  admitted,  and  then  the  ke     was 
turned.     Marcella  scribhled  a  line  on  -t    r,1f  .h     7  , 
pane,  and,  with  careinl  directions,  lilStL: 

not  fit."  ^-        -^^^''^^  one  was 

somefmcs  it's  that.     He  U  a  brute  '"  '*'"'™ 

Marcella  was  bending  over  ho,-  ^..^■ .  ^   .     ■ 

more  wnrd^  i»   ^   ,.h.^v        r  1  mutter  onee 

^-'-   .a  a  .tiange  dialect  that  Marcella  did 


J  'Jfl 


128 


MAllCELLA. 


not  understand,  and  could  no  longer  l,c  k.j     still 
Iho  ten.peratnr    was  risinj;  again,  and  anotatr  Ht  of 
dehr.um  was  imminent.     Marcella  could  oidy  hope 
hat  she  and  Mrs.  Levi  between  then,  would  be  able 
to  hold  her  till  the  doctor  came.     When  she  had  don,, 
all  that  was  m  her  power,  she  sat  beside  the  poor  toss 
.«g  creature,  controlling  an.l  calming  her  as  best  she' 
ould  while  Mrs.  Levi  poured  into  her  shrinking  ea 
the  story  o£  the  woman's  illness  and  of  iJr    Blank's 
conduct  of  it,      Mareella's  feeling,  as  she  listened 
was  made  up  of  that  old  agony  of  rage  and  pity 
Jlie  sutterings  of  the  poor,  because  they  were  poor- 
hese  things  often,  still,  darkened  earth  and  heaven 
for  her      Ihat  wretch  would  have  been  quite  capable, 
no  doubt,  of  conducting  himself  decently  and  even 
competently,  if  he  had  been  called  to  some  supposed 
laly  ni  one  of  the  well-to-do  squares  which  made  the 
centre  of  this  poor  and  crowded  district 

"HiiUo,  nurse!"  said  a  cheery  voice;  "you  seem 
to  have  got  a  bad  case."  ^ 

The  sound  was  as  music  in  Mareella's  ears     The 
woman  she  held  was  fast  becoming  unmanageable- 
had   just  shrieked,   first  for  "poison,"  then   for  a 
"knife"  to  kill  herself  with,  and  co'uld  hardly  b^ 
prevented  by  the  combined  strength  of  her  nurse  and 
Mrs.  Ley.,  now  from  throwing  herself  madly  out  of 
bed,  and  now  from  tearing  out   her  black  hair  in 
handfu  s.      The  doctor-a  young  Scotchman   with 
spec  acles,  and  stubbly  red  beard-came  quickly  up 
to  the  bed    asked  Marcella  a  few  short  questions 
shrugged  his  shoulders  over  her  dry  report  of  Dr' 
blanks   proceedings,   then    took    out   a    black    case 


MABCELLA. 


129 


from  Ws   pocket,  and  put  his   morphia  syringe  to- 

For  a  long  time  no  result  whatever  eoulrt  beol,tained 
by  any  treatn^ent.  Tl>e  husband  was  sent  for,  nd 
ca  ne  tron.blmg,  imploring  doctor  and  nurse,  i,  the 
mtervals  of  his  wife's  paroxysn.s,  not  to  l^J:  Wm 

Marcella,  absorbed  in  tl.e  tragi,  horror  of  the  ease 

took  no  note  of  the  passage  of  tin.e,    Everyth  ng lint 

he  doctor  suggested  she  carried  out  with  a  d,*n   f 

a  tenderness,  a  power  of  n.ind,  which  keenly  affected 

h  s  professional  sense.     Once,  the  poor  moHKrief 

hand.     The  blow  caught  Marcella  on  the  cheek,  and 
she  drew  back  with  a  slight  involuntary  cry 

You  are  hurt,"  .aid  Dr.  Angus,  running  up  to  her. 
No,  no,    she  said,  smiling  through  the  tears  that 
he  shock  had  called  into  her  eyes,'and  put  h ^  him 
rather  impatiently  aside;   ..it  is  nothing      Fou  saS 
you  wanted  some  fresh  ice."  '  on  saw 

And  she  went  into  the  back  room  to  get  it 
The  doctor  stood  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets 
studying  the  patient.  pockets, 

"You  will  have  to  send  her  to  the  inttrmarv  "  he 
said  to  the  husband ;  «  there  is  nothing  else  for  H  " 

apply  t  to  the  head.    The  patient  was  quieter  -  was, 

e"htSio:°"  "■""'"^'  '"'•"''  '"*°  ^  ^'--^  p-->  °£ 

the^  t'  tTf'  '*""■!'  "^'^  '°°'=  "«*"  »f  the  two  figures, 
the  hudd  ed  creature  on  the  pillows  and  the  sti,  tely 
he. J  bending  over  her,  with  the  delicately  hollowed 


U^i 


::•> 


f, ' 


Mr 


':         !t 


130 


MAIWELLA. 


I 


cheek  wLeroon  the  marks  „f  tl>o.e  mad  finsers  stood 
cn.t  red  and  angry.  He  had  already  had  .^^iZti 
this  girl  in  one  or  two  other  cases. 

bwift  was  the  iiarish  doctor. 

When  he  had  gone,  the  big  husband  broke  down 
and  cried  wit;.  „i,,  head  against  the  iron  ot  the  ted 
e  ose  to  his  wife.  He  p„t  his  great  liand  on  h  rs  and 
talked  to  her  brokenly  i„  their  own  patois.  Ti  y'  M 
been  eight  years  married,  and  she\ad  neve  ha  a 
day's  serious  illness  till  now.  Marcella's  ej"s  «  ) ed 
;>^.t^rs  as  .she  moved  aboiit  the  room,  doin^va-t' 
At  last  she  Avent  up  to  him. 

"Won't  you  go  and  have  some  dinner  ?  "  she  said  to 
him  kindly.    "There's  TJpnin.n,-..      n-  ''"^  saict  to 

pointed  to  the  do"  of  b    l" ""l  '"'  '"f  """  ''' 

Benny,  his  face  pnckertd  wUhtep  rLtX  Cd" 

.i^^at:i:rfa:::tir«"''"'''--°--^^^^^^^ 

Ihe  man,  who  in  spite  of  his  size  and  strength  was 

.1.  truth  childishly  soft  and  ductile,  went  as  he  ZZ 

bid,  and  Marcella  and  Mrs.  Levi  set'about  doing  wl" 

they  could  to  prepare  the  wife  for  her  remova 

Presently    parish    doctor    and    sanitary    inspector 

Then  at  1 J        "Z  ""'  '"'''''^  "'  '^'  h»^band. 

t.     xne   patient,   now  once  more   plunged   in 

nurses.  Dr.  Angus  presiding.     MarceUa  stood  in  the 


I 


M.tllVEllA. 


131 


as  fovored  ia,.o  nu.Wv  tl,.  dark  ,„at  „f  hail-  the 
hguresof  the.  straining  nK-n  heavily  ,les,.e„,lin.' sten 
.-step  thoi..  h,..,s  an,,  .,h„a,„e,.s  tLo,™  ont '^.aS 
ti.e  .11  ,  ral,,,  and  browns  „f  the  staintase;  the 
™wd  ot  Jewesses  on  the  stairs  an.l  huuling.  or  n  ^ 

Angn  oouldhar,Ily  make  his  .iirections  heard,  angrily 
-.  1  e  bade  henr  stand  back;  and  on  the  top  s  air? the 
..«  in,sband,  fo  lowing  the  form  of  his  departing  a  , 
neonsciou,,  w.e  with  his  eyes,  his  face  cnn™ko 

juth  weeping,  the  whimpering  children  clinging  about 

How  hot  it  was :  _  how  stifling  the  staircase  smelt 

o  the"::  ^  T"  T'  ""^™  '■■■"■" "-'  ">''-■  -■'"«- 


If 


Marpku  A  „„  I,,.,-  ss-ay  ho.no  ti.rno.l   into  .-.   littlo 
tl.in,^    .Is.    tl.o  mows  ontnim.o  opposite,  tl.c  linos  of 

As  sho  o,itero.l  tho  iron  gate  of  the  dwellings  and 

e2r\  „  ;ZX:  ^'.''---'of  -ked  and 
her  rest  n,//™  7  ,"""''"'**«"' "^  ^rins? 
strli^  o,lM^f  "''  '"''  '^^^™'^'l  the  sense  o? 

he  F    1    ' ,         ,"■'  '■""'  *''""  ^''''  '^"■»''<'J  the  stairs  of 
s*  of  Marcella  an.  the^Hurd:  L^^MTia':;:: 


MAnCELLA. 


133 


each  with  a  family,  who  wnv  mostly  (.ut  clKiring  dur- 
■  iig  the  day. 

Mareella's  Association  allowed  its  District  Nurses 
to  live  outside  the  -home"  of  the  district  on  certain 
conditions,  whjrh  had  been  fullilled  in  Mareella's  case 
by  her  settlement  next  door  to  her  old  friends  in  these 
buildiu-s  which  were  inhabited  by  a  verv  respectable 
though  poor  class.  Meanwhile  the  trustees  of  the 
buildings  had  allowed  her  to  make  a  temj^orary 
communication  between  her  room  and  th.^  Kurds,  so 
that  she  could  either  live  her  own  solitarv  and  inde- 
pendent life,  or  call  for  their  companionship,  as  she 
pleased. 

As  she  shut  her  door  behind  her  she  found  lierself 
in  a  little  passage  or  entry.  To  the  left  was  her  bed- 
room. Straight  in  front  of  her  was  the  living  room 
with  a  small  close  range  in  it,  and  behind  it  a  little 
back  kitchen. 

Tlie    linr-   room    was   cheerful    and   even   pretty. 
Her  art-str     .ii/s  training  showed  itself.     The  chea]'. 
blue  and  white  paper,  the  couple  of  oak  flap  tables 
from  a  broker's  shop  in   Marchmont  Street,  the  two 
or  three  cane  chairs  with  their  bright  chintz  cushions, 
the  Indian  rug  or  two  on  the  varnished  boards,  the 
photco^raphs  and  etchings  on  the  walls,  the  books  on 
the  tables  — there  was  not  one  of  these  things  that 
^^•as  not  in  it,,  degree  a  pleasure  to  her  vouug  senses, 
that  did  not  help  her  to  live  her  life.     This  afternoon 
as  she  openr.i  the  door  and  looked  in,  the  jtrettv  colours 
and  formes  in  th^'  tiny  room  were  as  water  to  the  thirsty. 
Her  motli-r  had  sent  her  some  flowers  the  day  before. 
There  they  were  on  the  tables,  great  bunches  of  honey- 


\h 


134 


MAItCBLLA. 


suckles,  of  Mue-bells,  and  Banksia  roses     And  o 
the  mantelpiece  was  a  iiliotooi-anh  „t  «       >  ^^ 

such  flowers  a,<,  M«ii„  *^    '  ""^  P'"'^''  '>'here 

unkem.Tlawn  th?o  d7"'r"''  """'''  S"'— '"e 
Cedar  Garden  """'"  "'"'  ^^'^^  "*"^  «*  ^e 

light  wooden  rockiL  chat    wl^l  ,J'''"'''  ^ 

favourite  seat  a  tmv  „f  7    !l  '™^  Marceila's 

Marcella  cW  a     L°  wfo"/!  "  "i^-  "»'  -*• 
down  her  bag.  ""'"''"■'  "^  ^^e  put 

drZr?"""  '  ™"  '"^  '"^*^='  ""  I  "-^  --hed  and 

hadtrrgre^Si-^^;"  -  '"^'^"*  ^  '■'™="''  ^''e 

back  kitchen^retpeted  the  ir;'V"''"^  """  '"o 
and  the  Kurds.  '"'"'"''"  ''"'  ■•<">u'b 

"Minta ! " 

A  voice  responded. 

a.::;t::l^rwTl:^h:erdSts^"--^ 

pale.    She  had  taken  off  heTnl!  1  ,,.f '"  '""  "''^ 

"Whatever  are  you  so  ]ate  for?"  she  asked  n  liffi 
peevishly.     ''You'll   o-pf  ;ii   •*  ^^^^  asKed  a  little 

dinner."  ^'^  '"  ^*  ^^^  g«  "hissing  your 


Hf 


MARCELLA. 


135 


"I  couldn't  help  it,  Minta,  it  was  such  a  bad  case." 

Mrs.  Hurd  poured  out  the  tea  in  silence,  unappeased. 

Her  mind  was  constantly  full  of  protest  against  this 

nursing.     Why  should   Miss  Boyce  do  such  "funny 

things  "  —  why  should  she  live  as  she  did,  at  all  ? 

Their   relation   to   each   other  was  a  curious   one. 
Marcella,  knowing  that  the  life  of  Kurd's  widow  at 
Mellor  was  gall  and  bitterness,  had  sent  for  her  at  the 
moment  that  she  herself  was   leaving  the  hospital, 
offering  her  a  weekly  sum  in  return  for  a  little  cook- 
ing and  house  service.     Minta  already  possessed  a 
weekly  pension,  coming  from  a  giver  unknown  to  her. 
It  was  regularly  handed  to  her  by  Mr.  Harden,  and 
she  could  only  imagine  that  one  of  the  '^ gentlemen" 
who  had  belonged  to  the  Hurd  Keprieve  Committee, 
and  had  worked  so  hard  for  Jim,  was  responsible  for 
it,  out  of  pity  for  her  and  her  children.    Tlie  payment 
offered  her  by  Miss  Boyce  would  defray  the  expense 
of  London  house-rent,  the  children's  schooling,  and 
leave  a  trifle  over.     Moreover  she  was  pining  to  get 
away  from  Mellor.     Her  hrst  instinct  after  her  hus- 
band's execution  had  been  to  hide  lierself  from  all  the 
world.     But  for  a  long  time  her  precarious  state  of 
health,  and  her  dependence  first  on  JNIarcella,  then  on 
Mary  Harden,  made  it  impossible  for  her  to  leave  the 
village.     It  was  not  till  Marcella's  proposal  came  that 
her  way  was  clear.     8]ie  sold  her  bits  of  tilings  at 
once,   took   her  children  and  went    up  to  Brown's 
buildings. 

Marcella  met  her  with  the  tenderness,  the  tragic 
tremor  of  feeling  from  which  tlie  peasant's  wife  shrank 
anew,  bewildered,  as  she  had  often  slu-uuk  from  it  in 


Pi 


ti 


136 


MASCELLA. 


which   vn.ifK    I,  J  *>"itt5  nan,  and  a  face  from 

open  mouth     R„    H  "ha'-mmg  eyes,  and  small 

man    ATr    Qf,.^    •      1     ,.  -^  S'nomant  that  queer 

^   pieces.     He  was  verv  rivi]   ^r^ri  ^ui-   ■ 
slie  liked  him      Yet  Mi. In  °^^'^"'^  *°^5 

re.klen„,g,  had  declared  she    onld  n  ver  do     H^     ^ 
lafon  to  .Ma-eolla  .as  not  to  he  Z:'Jl^Z 


MARCELLA. 


137 


and 


any  sense,  but  of  friend  and  sister;  and  on  l.er  and 
her  children  Murcella  had  spent  from  the  beginning 
a  number  of  new  womanish  wiles  which,  strangely 
enough,  this  hard,  strenuous  life  had  been  developing 
m  her     She  would  come  and  help  put  the  children  to 
bed;  she  would  romp  with  them  in  their  night-gowns  • 
she  would  bend  her  imperious  head  over  the  anxious 
endeavour  to  hem  a  pink  cotton  pinafore  for  Daisy  or 
dress  a  doll  for  the  baby.     But  the  relation  jarred  and 
hmped  perpetually,  and  Marcella  wistfully  thought  it 
ner  fault. 

Just  now,  however,  as  she  sat  gently  swaying  back- 
wards and  foi-wards  in  the  roeking-chdr,  e^oyfng  her 
tea,  her  mood  was  one  of  nothing  but  content' 

"Oh,  Minta,  give  me  another  cup.  1  want  to  have 
a  sleep  so  badly,  and  then  I  am  going  to  see'  Miss 
iiaiim,  aiKl  stay  to  supper  with  them." 

"Well,  you  nmstu't  go  out  in  v..em  nursin'  thin-s 
agam,"  said  Minta,  .luickly ;  "I've  put  you  in  some 
lace  m  your  bla.k  dress,  an'  it  looks  teauiiful." 

«ee„;,  V    "'' r"'  *^"'"'  ''•" *'"''  '^'••«'*  'I'-'^-'s  ahvays 
seeins  to  n>e  too  smart  to  walk  about  these  streets 

'-It's  just  nice."  said  Minta,  with  decision.     "It's 
just  «hat  everybo.ly  that  kno«-s  you -what  your 

amma-wouhl  like  to  see  you  in.     I  ean't  abMe 
them  nursni'  clothes-nasty  things  "' 

"I  declare ! "  cried  Marcelia,  laughing,  but  outraged: 

I  nerer  like  myself  so  well  in  anythin-  " 

Minta  was  silent,  but  her  sni.all   mouth   took  an 
obs mate  look      What  she  really  fWt  was  that    t  wa 
absurd  for  huhe,,  to  wear  caps  and  aprons  and  plain 


-m 


■  l"i\ 


138 


MARVEL  LA. 


i     • 

i 


IH 


1:1 


black  hoimots,  whon  thero  was  no  nood  for  thoin  to  <lo 
anytlinitr  of  tho  kind. 

"  \Miatov(>r  liavt>  you  heei,  doinnr  to  your  chcok ''"' 
she  exelainuHl,  suddouly,  as  Marci-lla  haudo.l  ho,v  the 
empty  cii[)  to  take  away. 

^rareella  explained  shortly,  and  Minla,  looked  moro 
discontented  than  ever.  -A  lot  of  h,\v  peopk,  as 
ought  to  look  after  themselves,"  that  was  how  in  her 
inmost  nnnd  she  generally  deli ned  Marcella's  patients 
She  had  been  often  kind  and  soft  to  her  neighbours  at 
Uellov,  but  these  dirty,  crowded  Londoners  were  an- 
other matter. 

"  ^^'here  is  Daisy  ?  "  asked  Marcella  as  Minta  was 
going  away  with  the  tea;  "she  must  have  come  back 
from  school." 

"  Here  I  am,"  said  Daisy,  with  a  grin,  peeping  in 
through   the   door  of  the   back   kitchen.     ''Mother 
baby's  woke  up."  ' 

''Come  here,  you  monkey,"  said  Marcella;  "come 
and  go  to  sleep  with  me.     Have  you  had  your  tea  ?  " 
"  \  es,  lots,"  said  Daisy,  climbing  up  into  Marcella's 
lap.     ''  Are  you  going  to  be  asleep  a  long  time  ?  " 

''  No  -  only  a  nap.  Oh  !  Daisy,  I'm  so  tired.  Come 
and  cuddlie  a  bit !  If  you  don't  go  to  sleep  you  know 
you  can  slip  away  — I  shan't  wake." 

The  child,  a  slight,  red-haired  thing,  with  somethino- 
of  the  ethereal  charm  that  her  dead  brother  had  pol 
sessed,  settled  herself  on  Marcella's  knees,  slipped  her 
left  thuml)  into  her  mouth,  and  flung  her  other  arm 
round  Marcella's  neck.  They  had  often  gone  to  sleep 
so.  Mrs.  Hurd  came  back,  drew  down  the  blind 
further,  threw  a  light  shawl  over  them  both,  and 
left  them. 


MASCELLA. 


189 


An  hour  .nui  a  lulf  later  Minta  came  i„  again  as 
.0  had  iHvn   told.     Ba.sy  had  slipped  awav,  bnt 

J  ar,.e  la  wa.  stdl  lying  i„  ,he  i^rfect  gentleness  and 

relaxation  of  sleep. 

"You  said    I  was  to   come  and  wake  vou."   said 
Mmta,  drawing  up  the  blind ;   -  but  I  don't  believe 
you  re  a  bit  lit  to  bo  g.ing  about.     Here's  some  Lot 
I  water,  and  there's  a  letter  just  come  " 

Marcella  woke  with  a  start.  Minta  put  the  letter  on 
her  knee,  and  dream  and  reality  flowed  together  as 
she  saw  her  own  name  in  Wharton's  handwriting 

bhe  read  the  letter,  then  sat  flushed  and  thinking 
for  a  while  with  her  Imnds  on  her  knees. 

A  httle  while  later  she  opened  the  Hurd^'  ^-ont 
door.  ^ 

-Mintii,  I  am  going  now.  I  shall  be  back  eariv 
after  supper,  for  I  liaren't  written  mv  report " 

-There -now    you    look    something  like!"   said 

V.  .^iT'T'?^^  ^'"  ^PProTingly-th;wide  hat  and 
.retty  black  dress.     -Shall  Daisy  run  out  with  that 
tfif  gram  ? 

-Xo.  tha,nks.     I  shall  pass  the  ix)st.     Good-bre  '^ 

And  she  st.w].ed  and  kissed  the  little  wiihered 
^oman.  M,e  wished,  ardently  wished,  that  Mmta 
^^uald  U  moTt  tiiily  friends  with  her' 

After  a  brisk  walk  through  the  June  erening  she 
s  opp^d  -  still  within  the  same  district  -  at  the  door 
o  a  Louse  ma  long.  old-fa.hioned  street,  wherein  the 
builder  was  busy  on  either  Land  sinc^  most  of  th. 
iong  .eases  Lad  .lust  fallen  m.  But  the  house  she 
j-m.re4  was  still  untouched.     She  climl^ed  a  last-cen-     ■ 

.,  ^-■«a-x.^t-.  auurned  »uiii  panels  of  stucco  work — 


i| 


140 


1 

I 


MABCELLA. 


slender  Italianate   reliefs  of    ivreaths,   ribbon.,    and 
medallions  on  a  pale  green  ground,     ihe  dec"  r.tl™ 
was  clean  and  eared   for,  the  ho„.,e  in  good  "^r 
K.ghty  years  ago  it  was  the  honie  of  a  famous  iucte 
who  entertanied  in  its  rooms  the  legal  and  li  erarv 
eelebrifes  of  his  day.     Now  it  was°let  out  to  pro- 
essional  people  in  lodgings  or  unfurnished  rooms 
tr  ut"  """  ''"  "^'^^  •'«'"'?'«'  'he  top  floor 

abo^nhirt^:;:,^:::^;'"''  '•'"" "°"'""  "^ 

liy  live,  came  at  once  in  answer  to  Marcell'i'<^ 
knock,  and  greeted  her  affectionately.    Edward  HaUn 
spicmg  up  from  a  table  at  the  further  end  of  the  ro  m 
You  are  so  late!    Alice  and  I  had  made  up  our 
minds  you  had  forgotten  us  !  " 

"I  dijln't  get  home  till  four,  and  then  I  had  to 
have  a  sleep,"  she  explained,  half  shyly 
"What!  you  haven't  been  night-nursing?" 
"  Yes,  for  once." 

aftef "::;"'"  "'""  '"  '""^"P  "'PP"'  »"1  l^t's  look 
He  wheeled  round  a  comfortable  chair  to  the  op.>n 
wmdow-the  charming  circular  bow  of  last-eentu  t 
des,gn,  which  filled  up  the  end  of  the  room  »d  ^a™ 
.t  eharaeter  The  window  looked  out  on  a  quLt  Hue 
of  back  garfens,  such  as  may  still  be  seen  in  Blomns! 

nto  MI  leaf;  and  beyond  them  the  backs  of  anothe: 
line  of  houses  in  a  distant  square,  with  pleasant 
U'regiilarities  of  old  brickwork  and  tiled  roof  tI 
mottled  tranks  of  the  planes,  their  blackened  twi's 
and  branches,  their  thin,  beautiful  leaves,  the  fo™ 
of  the  houses  beyond,  rose  in  a  charming  medley  of 


jfil 


MARCELLA. 


•ons,  and 
ecoration 
5d  order. 
IS  judge, 

literary 
t  to  pro- 
l   rooms. 
)  floor. 
)man   of 
arcella's 
I  Hallin 
le  room. 

up  our 

had  to 


141 


:'s  look 

le  open 
entury 
d  gave 
3t  line 
looms- 
ominsr 
lother 
Basant 
The 
twigs 
forms 
ieyof 


line  against  the  blue  and   peaceful   sky.      No   near 

sound  was   to    be    heard,  only  the   distant   murmur 

that  no  Londoner  escapes;  and  some  of  the  British 

I  Museum   pigeons   were   sunning    themselves   on  the 

';  garden-wall  below. 

Within,  the  Hallins'  room  was  spacious  and  barely 
furnished.     The   walls,    indeed,   were   crowded  with 
I  books,  and  broken,  where  the  books  ceased,  by  photo- 

I  graphs  of  Italy  and  Greece;  but  of  furniture  proper 

there  seemed  to  be  little  beside  Hallin's  large  writing- 
table  facing  the  window,  and  a  few  chairs,  placed  on 
the  blue  drugget  which  brother  and  sister  had  chosen 
i^  with  a  certain  anxiety,  dreading  secretly  lest  it  should 

be  a  piece  of  self-indulgence  to  buy  what  pleased  them 
both  so  much.  On  one  side  of  the  fireplace  was 
Miss  Hnllin's  particular  corner;  her  chair,  the  table 
that  held  her  few  special  books,  her  work-basket,  with 
Its  knitting,  her  accounts.  There,  in  the  intervals  of 
many  activities,  she  sat  and  worked  or  read,  always 
cheerful  and  busy,  and  always  watching  over  her 
brother. 

"I  wish,"  said  Hallin,  with  some  discontent,  when 
Marcella  had  settled  herself,  "that  we  were  going 
to  be  alone  to-night;  that  would  have  rested  vou 
more." 

"Why,  who  is  coming?"  said  Marcella,  a  little 
flatly.     She  had  certainly  hoped  to  find  them  alone 

"  Your  old  friend,  Frank  Leven,  is  coming  to  supper. 
When  he  heard  you  were  to  be  here  he  vowed  that 
nothing  could  or  should  keep  him  away.  Then,  after 
supper,  one  or  two  people  asked  if  they  might  come 
m.     There  are  sojue  anxious  things  going  on?' 


liJl 


t    '1 


I 


142 


Li 


I.  =? 


I 


MARCELLA. 

He  leant  his  head  on  his  hand 


already."  °  '""  ■>""  '"'>'»  told  mo 

"Dolrt  ffk?^  ^'"^*'''  '-'""'■"  ^""^  ^»M.   laughins 
-uon  t  take  so  much  interest  in  it     It',  A     .■    ,  .    ' 

just  no^v  to  a.lmire  nurses     b      L      ,      ,"  *"'''"°" 
do  our  ivork  lite  nM         '  '  "'''"''0"s-     We 

sometimes  wellAdLrot  ~  ""Tf""  '"""^■• 
we  could  help  it."  *  "'  ™"""  '  '1°  it  « 

Is  this  miscellaneous  work  ^  relief  t„  J  -^^ 

hospital  ?  "  he  asked.  '°  ^'''■''  •''*""• 

seeim:i.e''ci.';::::r-  pV.v"°"  "'™''"«'  -"  --^ 

Td    ;  e\r.  t^   "^'^   *^^^    '^-  -  ^"'^ 
ua  tne    ott    times  were  no  trouble -I  never  dl,I 

anythin      J,    but  walk  up  and  down  the  Embank 

"And  it  was  the  monotony  you  liked  ^  » 
fehe  made  a  sign  of  assent 

forlfelT/.:  "'''  «''"-'   "-''''  ^-XJ  ever  have 
She  flushed. 
"You  might  hare  foreseen  it,  I  think/'  she  said. 


MAliCELLA, 


143 


not  without  a  little  impatience.  "But  I  didn't  like 
it  all  at  oiioe.  I  hated  a  great  deal  of  it.  If  they  had 
let  me  alone  all  the  time  to  scrub  and  polish  and  wash 
—  the  things  they  set  me  to  at  first  — I  thought  I 
should  have  been  quite  happy.  To  see  my  table  full 
of  glasses  without  a  spot,  and  my  brass-taps  shining, 
made  me  as  jn-oud  as  a  peacock  !  But  then  of  course 
I  had  to  learn  the  real  work,  and  that  was  very  odd 
at  first." 

"How?     Morally?" 

She   nodded,  laughing  at  her  own   remembrances. 
"Ye^s- It  seemed  to  me  all  topsy-turvy.     I  thought 
the  Sister  at  the  head  of  the  ward  rather  a  stupid 
person.     If  I  had  seen  her  at  Mellor  I  shouldn't  have 
spoken  two  words  to  her.     And  here  she  was  ordering 
me  about  -  rating  me  as  I  had  never  rated  a  house- 
maid—laughing at  me  for  not  knowing  this  or  that 
and  generally  making  me  feel  that  a  raw  probationer 
was  one  of  the  things  of  least  account  in  the  whole 
universe.     I  knew  perfectly  well  that  she  had  said  to 
herself,  '  Now  then  I  must  take  that  proud  girl  down 
a  peg,  or  she  will  be  no  use  to  anybody ; '  and  I  had 
somehow  to  put  up  with  it." 

"Drastic!"  said  Hallin,  laaghing;  "did  you  com- 
fort  yourself  by  reflecting  that  it  was  everybody's 
late  i 

Her  lip  twitched  with  amusement. 

"Not  for  a  long  time.  I  used  to  have  the  most 
absurd  ideas  ! -sometimes  looking  back  I  can  hardly 
believe  it -perhaps  it  was  partly  a  queer  state  of 
nerves.  When  I  was  at  school  and  got  in  a  passion 
i  used  to  try  and  overawe  the  girls  by  shaking  my 


i       u 


i 


'    u 


144 


MA HC ELL A. 


i 


¥  ^ 


\- 


■t  «ouI,  Hash  a.ross  ,„o  .,o tinio.s  i„  a  ,,l;U„tiv,'  sort 

of  M,.n„r,  ami  ha,l    l.eon  ,„„t,horini;  and  rnli,,.  fl,„ 
whole  „t  my  fatl,e,-.s  villa,««_,„.  t,;^  „„„,'■  cat 

.t  <■«.„„  to  a  cr,s,s.     1  I,a,I  ha,l  to  R„t  things  ro,„ly  fo. 

,u      a„l  n.e  ..venal.ttlo  oon.plim.nt  all  to  mysolf. 

I.nt  then  aft..,.,vn,,l.,  the  pati,.„t  was  some  tin.e  in  eon,- 

ng  to,  and  there  l,a,l  to  1,«  hot-water  h,.ttles.     I  ha,l 

them  ready  of  coarse;  bnt  they  were  too  hot,  and  in 

my  zeal  and  n.n-vousnes.,  I  burnt  the  patient's  elbow 

n  two  plaees.     Oh  !  the  /„,,,  n„,l  thi  seolding,  and 

he^hnnj, hatmn  -    AVhen  1  h-ft  the  ward  that  cv eni 

I  thought  I  wouhl  so  home  next  day."  ^ 

"But  you  didn't?" 

'•  If  I  could  have  sat  down  and  thought  it  out  I 
.honhl  probably  have  gone.     Bnt  I  conhb.-t  thi"!  i 

of  joni  first  months  m  hospital -the  utter  helpless 
achi:' "'?;*■     '"'"  '" '"  "^^  ^""'"^  ""•>  '■-  -I' 
tan t  you;  but,  when  your  time  comes  to  sleep,  sleep 
you  mn^.    Kven  that  miserable  night  my  head  wis 
no  sooner  on  the  pillow  than  I  was'asleep;  and  nT. 
mormng  there  was  all  the  routine  as  us.'a ,  and  the 

got  mto  the   ward   the   Sister  looked  at  me  rather 
<iueerly  and  went  out  of  her  way  to  be  kind  to  me 

h    ■  bloT  ""  r'"'"'  '"  ■""■  •     ^  ™"'''  '''■'™  b^^hed 
-    -luj...  anj  OLhL-i-  lueniai  service  for  he),- 


MA RCELLA. 


145 


with  delight.    And  — tht 


-soniehow  I  pulled  through 
llie  enonnous  interest  of  the  work  seized  me -I  grew 
ambitious -they  pushed  me  on  rapidlv- everybody 
seemed  suddenly  to  be.ome  my  friend  'instead  of  mv 
enemy -and  I  ended  by  thinking  the  hospital  the 
most  fascinating  ami  engrossing  place  in  the  whole 
world. ' 

-A  curious  experience."  said  Hallin.     -I  suj.pose 
you  had  never  obeyed  anyone  in  your  life  before "" 
-  ^  ot  since  I  was  at  school  -  and  then  -  not  much ' "' 
Halhn  glanced  at  her  as  she  lay  back  in  her  chair 
How  nchly  human  the  face  had  grown  !     It  was  as 
foreible  as  ever  in  expression  and  colour,  but  that  look 
which  had  often  repelled  him  in  his  first  acquaintance 
ith  her,  as  of  a  hard  speculative  eagerness  more  like 
the  ardent  boy  than  the  woman,  had  v.rv  much  dis. 
appeared.     It  seemed  to  him  absorbed  iii  something 

^Mth  all  the  pathos  and  the  pain  of  growth. 

"How   long  have  you  been  at  work  to-day ^^•'  he 
asked  her.  "^ 

;•  I  went  at  eleven  last  night.     I  came  awav  at  four 
this  afternoon."'  ^ 

Hallin  exclaimed,  "You  had  food  ^'' 

"Do  you  think  I  should  let  myself  starve  with  -  v 

-ork  to  do?'.'  she  ask.l  him.  with  a  shade  of  sc.rn 

and  her  most  professional  air.     -And  don't  suppose 

hat  such  a  case  oc-curs  often.     It  is  a  verv  rare  thing 

for  us  to  undertake  night-nursing  at  a:]."  '  ^ 

"  Can  you  tell  me  what  the  case  was  -> " 

.^he  told  him    vaguely,  describing:   also   in    a  few 
woras  ;    r  encounter  with  Dr.  Blank. 

TOl.  II. —10 


h    ^ 


iii 


146 


^fAUrKlLA 


•'I  suppose  lu,  uill  ,n;,k.  a  f„ss."  sh.  s;,i,l,  with  n 
restless  I.K.k.  '-,,,,1  that  1  shall  1,,.  l,lu„M.,l  " 

"I  shm.I.l  think  your  seco.ul  doctor  will  take  .are 
ot  that!     said  llallin. 

-1  don't  know.      I  eouldn't  help  it.     But  it  is  one 
j't  our  hrst  prineiples  not  to  <inestio.i  a  doctor.     .A„,l 
last  week  to.>   I  ,,..t  the  Association  into  trouble.     A 
patient  I  had  l.een  nursinj,  for  weeks  and  ^ot  .p.ite 
tond  ot  had  to  be  renu.ved  to  hospital.     She  a  ked 
nu'  to  cut  her  luur.      V   was  nutted  .Ireadfnlly,  an 
wouhl  have  been  ent  off  directly  she  got  to  the  ward. 
So  1  out  .t,  left  her  all  con.tortable,  and  was  to  eon.e 
ba  k  at  one  to  meet  the  doctor  and  help  get  her  off 
Whonlcan.e,  I  found  the  whole  court  in  an  ufnoar" 
Ihe  sist.r  ot  the  won.nn,  who  had  been  watching  for 
»>^N  stood  on  the  doorstep,  and   in.plored.  nie  to  go 
-vay     The  husband  had  gone  out  of  his  senses  wifh 
rage  becaus.-  1  had  cut  his  wife's  hair  without  his 
consent.     ^  He'll  murder  you,  Nuss!'  said  the  !siste 
If  he  sees  you!     Don't  come  in! -he's  mad -he's 
been  yoimj  round  on  'is  \inds  and  knees  on  the  floor  f '  "- 
Ha  hn  interrupted  with  a  shout  of  laughter.     JVIai- 

he    h  n?  r'  l"'  ^?  ''  ^"'  an.azement  he  saw  that 
he    hand  shook,  and  that  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 
It  s  all  very  well,"  she  said  with  a  sigh,   A,xxt 
i  had  to  come  away  in  disgrace,  all  the  street  looking. 
on.     And  he  made  sucli  a  fuss  at  the  office  as  never 
was.     It  was  unfortunate  -  we  don't  want  the  peoT)le 
set  against  the  nurses.      And   now   Dr.  Blank »_ I 
seem  to  be  always  getting  into  scrapes.    It  is  different 
from  hospital,  where  everything  is  settled  for  one  " 
Ilallm  could  hardly  believe  his  ears.     Such  n^oman 


MAECKLLA. 


147 


Jg 


ish  terrors  an,!  .loj^ression.  from  Marcella  J^oyee' 
^^a,s  sho.  nft.r  all.  too  yoxm^  for  tiie  work,  or  was 
tluMv  s,>ine  fret  of  the  soul  reJuoing  h,r  natural  force? 
Ho  felt  au  unwc.nted  impulse  of  tenderness  towards 
her-suc-h  as  one  luight  feel  towuds  a  tired  child 
—  and  set  himself  to  cheer  ..iid  rest  her 

He  had  succeeded  to  scmie  extent,  when  he  saw  her 

jnve  a  httle  start,  and  fallowing  her  eyes  he  perceived 

hat  unconsciously  his  arnu  whieh  was  resting  on  the 

||b  e.  had  pushed  into  her  view  .  photograph  in  a 

httle  frame,  whieh  had  l»een  Itherc-,  ....cealed  from 

her  by  a  glass  of  flowers.     He  would  have  quietlv  put 

It  ou   of  sight  again,  but  si.e  sat  up  in  her  diair  " 

J•^^  111  you  give  it  me?"  she  said,  putting,  out  her 

He  gave  it  her  at  once. 

^•Aliu  brought  it  home  from  Miss  Eaebum  the 
other  day  His  aunt  made  hnn  sit  to  one  of  the 
y^hotogi-aphers  who  are  always  Wsieging  public  men. 
^^  e  thought  it  good."' 

;*  It  is  very  good."  she  said,  after  a  pause.  ••  Is  the 
hair  renlly  _  as  grey  as  that  ?  -     She  fK-inted  to  it. 

Lord  Maxwell  to  Italy.  It  will  l^  ten  davs'  break 
for  him  at  any  rate.  His  work  this  last  Vear  has 
Wn  ^-ery  heav.^     He  has  had  his  graodfaiher-s  to 

h!^  w"  ""Z"^^  ""''  ^'"°=  ^^^^  ^^^^  Commission 
^  been  a  stiff  ,,b  too.  I  am  mher  sorn-  that  he 
ii^  taken  tli^s  t.^^v  post." 

•"  What  ]x>st  ?  ■■ 

-Didn-t  you  hear?  They  have  made  him  r.^... 
l^-retaiy  t.>  the  Home  Department.  So  that  he  "is 
now  m  the  Govemmem." 


i 


if 


,  ••I 


148 


MARCELLA. 


Ii       I 


She  put  back  the  photograph,  and  moved  her  chair 
a  httle  so  as  to  see  more  of  the  plane  trees  and  the 
strips  of  sunset  cloud. 

''Hovv  is  Lord  Maxwell  ?  "  she  asked  presently. 
Much  changed.     It  might  end  in  a  sudden  break- 
up  at  any  time." 

Hallin  saw  a  slight  contraction  pass  over  her  face 
He  knew  that  she  had  always  felt  an  aifection  foi' 
Lord  Maxwell.  Suddenly  Marcella  looked  hastily 
round  her^  Miss  Hallin  was  busy  with  a  little  ser 
vant  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  making  arranc^e- 
ments  for  supper.  ^^icui^e 

''Tell  me,"  she  said,  bending  over  the  arm  of  her 
chair  and  speaking  in  a  low,  eager  voice,  "  he  is  be- 
ginning to  forget  it  ?  " 

Hallin  looked  at  her  in  silence,  but  his  half  sad, 
half  ironic  smile  suggested  an  answer  from  which 
she  turned  away. 

herself    with  a  kind  of  impatience.     '^He  ought  to 
marry,  for  everybody's  sake  " 

He  began  to  put  some  papers  under  his  hand  in 
order.  Ihere  was  a  cold  dignity  in  his  manner  which 
she  perfectly  understood.  Ever  since  that  day- 
that  never-forgott(>n  day -when  he  had  come  to  her 
«ie  morning  after  her  last  interview  with  Aldous 
Raeburn  come  with  reluctance  and  dislike,  because 
Aldous  had  asked  it  of  him  -and  had  gone  away  her 
friend  more  drawn  to  her,  more  touched  by  h-  ^  th-m 
he  had  ever  been  in  the  days  of  the  engagement,  their 


her  chair 
and  the 

ently. 
sn  break- 

her  face. 
;tion  for 
hastily 
ttle  ser- 
arrange- 

i  of  her 
e  is  he- 
al f  sad, 
■  which 

nost  to 
ight  to 

t,"  said 

and  in 
which 
day  ~ 
to  her 
ildous 
ecause 
ay  her 
^  than 
,  their 


MA  a CELL A. 


149 


relation   on   this   subject   had   been   the   same     His 
sweetness  and  kindness  to  her,  his  influence  over  h 

grelfT\t7rV-'^"''^"^  ^^^^^'^^^^^  ^-n  very 
great     In  that   first  interview,  the  object  of  which 

had  been  to  convey  to  her  a  warning  on  the  subject  o 
the  man  it  was  thought  she  might  allow  herself  to 
marry,  something  in  the  manner  with  which  he  had 
attempted  his  incredibly  difficult  task  -  its  simple 
ity,  Its  delicate  respect  for  her  persomility,  its  iug- 

anything  she  had  yet  known,  and  unconsciously  re- 
vealing itself  under  the  stress  of  emotion  -  this  some- 
thmg  had  suddenly  broken  down  his  pale  Zd 
companion,  had  to  hi.  own  great  dismay  Lc^^uZ^ 

r  S  r;  '^  r"'  "^^''"'^^^'  ^^^^^  i-Hrecttaskin; 
foi  help  and  understanding  as  amazed  them  both 

Experiences  of   this   kind  were   not  new  to  'him 

His  life  consecrated  to  ideas,  devoted  to  the  wresting 

of  the  maximum  of  human  service  from  a  cripplinf 

c'^hhii  o7f  ""'^^  the  precarious  health  itself  ?i!::h' 
cut  him  ofe  from  a  hundred  ordinary  amusements  and 
occupations,  and  especially  cut  hin/off  from  ma^i^e 
-together  with  the  ardent  temperament,  the  charm 

gitts- these  things  ever  since  he  was  a  lad  had  made 
i-u  again  and  again  the  guide  and  prop  o    na^r 
stronger  and  stormier  than  his  own.     Oftel  the  u^  11 

nstiS:^    r'  '^  '^V'^  I-lf-impatient  breathTcs 
nstincts  of  the  man  who  has  set  himself  a  Msk  and 

Tfit:  f  r^r-^^-  ^e  will  have  power  ::^c 

,     "^^isn  It.     Ihe  claims  made  imou  M.v,  .p.,,,^,!  . 


n 


.^', 


■'a 

If 


■r- 


il. 


150 


MARCELLA. 


But  his  quick  tremulous  sympathy  rendered   him 
really  a  defenceless  prey  in  such  matters.     Marcella 
threw  herself  upon  him  as  others  had  done ;  and  there 
was  no  help  for  it.     Since  their  first  memorable  inter- 
view, at  long  intervals,  he  had  written  to  her  and  she 
to  him.     Of  her  hospital  life,  till  to-night,  she  had 
never  told  him  much.     Her  letters  had  been  the  pas- 
sionate outpourings  of  a  nature  sick  of  itself,  and  for 
the  moment   of  living;   full   of  explanations  which 
really  explained  little  ;  full  too  of  the  untaught  pangs 
and  questionings  of  a  mind  which  had  never  given  any 
sustained  or  exhaustive  effort  to  any  philosophical  or 
social  question,  and  yet  was  in  a  sense  tortured  by 
them  all— athirst  for  an  impossible  justice,  and  aflame 
for  ideals  mocked  first  and  above  all  by  the  writer's 
own  weakness  and  defect.     Hallin  had  felt  them  inter- 
esting, sad,  and,  in  a  sense,  fine;  but  he  had  never 
braced  himself  to  answer  them  without  groans.     There 
were  so  many  other  people  in  the  world  in  the  same 
plight ! 

Nevertheless,  all  through  the  growth  of  friendship 
one  thing  had  never  altered  between  them  from  the 
beginning— Hallin's  irrevocable  judgment  of  the 
treatment  she  had  bestowed  on  Aldous  Raeburn. 
Never  throughout  the  whole  course  of  their  acquaint- 
ance had  he  expresso'l  that  judgment  to  her  in  so 
many  words.  Notw  Lhstanding,  she  knew  perfectly 
well  both  the  nature  and  the  force  of  it.  It  lay  like  a 
rock  in  the  stream  of  their  friendship.  The  currents 
of  talk  might  circle  round  it,  imply  it,  glance  off  from 
it;  they  left  it  unchanged.  At  the  root  of  his  mind 
towards  her,  at  the  bottom  of  his   gentle   sensitive 


MARCELLA. 


151 


nature,  there  was  a  sternness  which  he  often  forgot  — 
she  never. 

This  hard  fact  in  their  rahition  had  insensibly  in- 
fluenced her  greatly,  was  constantly  indeed  working  in 
and  upon  her,  especially  since  the  chances  of  her  nurs- 
ing career  had  brought  her  to  settle  in  this  district, 
within  a  stone's  throw  of  him  and  his  sister,  so  that 
she  saw  them  often  and  intimately.  But  it  worked  in 
different  ways.  Sometimes  — as  to-night  —  it  evoked 
a  kind  of  defiance. 

A  minute  or  two  after  he  had  made  his  remark 
about  Aldous,  she  said  to  him  suddenly, 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Wharton  to-day.  He  is 
coming  to  tea  with  me  to-morrow,  and  I  shall  probably 
go  to  the  House  on  Friday  with  Edith  Craven  to  hear 
him  speak." 

Hallin  gave  a  slight  start  at  the  name.  Then  he 
said  nothing ;  but  went  on  sorting  some  letters  of 
the  day  into  different  heaps.  His  silence  roused  her 
irritation. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  she  said,  in  a  low,  energetic 
voice,  "  that  I  told  you  I  could  never  be  ungrateful, 
never  forget  what  he  had  done  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  he  said,  not  without  a  certain 
sharpness  of  tone.  "  You  spoke  of  giving  him  help  if 
he  ever  asked  it  of  you  —  has  he  asked  it  ?  " 

She  explained  that  what  he  seemed  to  be  asking  was 
Louis  Craven's  help,  and  that  his  overtures  with  regard 
to  the  Labour  Clarion  were  partittularly  oi)portune, 
seeing  that  Louis  was  pining  to  be  able  to  marry,  and 
was  losing  heart,  hope,  and  health  for  want  of  some 
fixed  empiuyuient.     She  spoke  warmly  of  her  friends 


'  [ 


r 


i 


:>   i 


152 


MAIiCELLA. 


to  ad,mt  that  all  she  sai,l  was  plausible.     ,Si„ce  the 

"oment  .„  that  strange  t,ak  which  had  drawn    he^ 

UK  th.r   when  she  had   turned  upon  him  with  the 

pa     onate  cry      «.  I  see  what  you  mean,  perfectly !  but 

l^m  not  g„,ng  to  n,arry  Mr.  Wharton,  so  don't  trouble 

h  n::;';."'r/"^  ""■  "■""^■-  °'  "-*  •-  •>-  war„ed  .„: 

fo  Tt  T  ;;:^  '  ■""'■«"■'«"'•  '>«  /'««a™ed,  and  if  he  asks 
Zll  ^:V"f''^'-"™y  ;""'"" -since  that  moment 
tlu  e  had  been  no  word  of  Wharton  between  them 
At  the  bottom  of  his  heart  Hallin  distrusted  her,  ad 
«-as  asha„.ed  of  himself  because  of  it.  His  sor  n 
and  jealousy  for  his  friend  knew  no  bounds  "  If  hu 
rL'°tXu"K''"""T'""-''^^-''^-"'St°'-»«'lfnow, 

:':  I  k^™! -mT:  rwif:''  ™^  "'^-  "°"*-'-^'  ^"' 

.He  must  needs'l„:tC^Xrou7t  r;;- 
'■areer  ,„  Parlian.ent,  of  his  prospects,  of  his  pole 
as  a  speaker.     Halliu  answered  shortly  like  so  ne  o, 
api  roached  on  a  subject  for  which  he  cares  nothing 

Yet  of  course,  it  is  not  that ;  it  is  injustice ! "  she 
sa>d  to  herself,  with  vehemence,    "  He  Jst  care ;  th  y 

ioo'kaUt"''"'"  ""  7*^"^'^  '°°-     «»*  ^o  -"  »ot 
look  at  It  dispassionately,  beeau.'--.— " 

So  they  fell  out  with  each  other  a  little,  and  the 
talk  dragged.  Yet,  all  the  while,  ;>Iareel  a's  inner 
m."d  was  con,scious  of  quite  different  thoughts     Z 

people !   .She  must  show  herself  fr,.«tious  and  difficult 


MARCELLA. 


153 


with  Hiillin  sometimes ;  it  was  her  nature.  But 
in  reality,  that  slight  and  fragile  form,  that  spiritual 
presence  were  now  shrined  in  the  girl's  eager  reverence 
and  affection.  She  felt  towards  him  as  many  a  Catholic 
has  felt  towards  his  director ;  though  the  hidden  yearn- 
ing to  be  led  by  him  was  often  oddly  covered,  as  now, 
by  an  outer  self-assertion.  Perhaps'  her  quarrel  with 
him  was  that  he  would  not  lead  her  enough  —  would 
not  tell  her  precisely  enough  what  she  was  to  do  with 
herself. 


'II 

•4 


f  15  1 
,       j  j 


! 


>  .ft 

ill 


|(i 


'!!      i 


CHAP'iM':R  V. 

WaiLE.hr  anu  Huilin  .vro  sittinj,  tlm«,  mom.n- 
{:in  y  out  oi'  tune  with  each  other,  the  sik-iuu.  was 
sutUU'iily  broken  by  a  familiar  voice. 

**  1  say,  Halii:)  —  is  this  all  right?  " 

Thr  wor.73  came  iVom  a  young 'man  who,  having 
kiiuek.Hl  unheeded,  ..pened  the  door,  and  cautiously 
put  m  a  eurly  head.  "^ 

"Frank! -is  that  you?    Come  in/'  cried  Hallin 
sprnigmg  uj).  ' 

Frank  Leven  came  in,  and  at  once  perceived  the 
lady  sittns'jf  in  the  window. 

"Well  I  am  glad!"  he  cried,  striding  across  the 
room  and  .haking  Hallin's  hand  by  the  way.  -  Miss 
Boyee!  I  tliought  none  of  your  friends  were  ever 
going  to  get  a  sight  of  you  again !     AVJiy,  wliat  —  " 

He  drew  back  scanning  iier,  a  gay  look  of  quizzing 
surprise  on  his  fair  boy's  face. 

'' He  expected  me  in  cap  and  apron,"  said  Marcella, 
laughing;  "or  means  to  pretend  he  did." 

"  I  expected  a  sensation !     And  here  you  are,  just  as 

you  were  only  twice  as -I  say,  Hallin,  doesn't  she 

ook  well!  "-this  in  a  stage  aside  to  Hallin,  while 

the   speaker  was  drawing  off  his  gloves,  and  still 

studying  Marcella. 

"Well,  /think  she  looks  tired,"  said  Hallin,  with 
a  little  attempt  at  a  smile,  but  turning  away.     Every- 

154 


i 


MARCELLA. 


155 


^'^^1 


body  felt  a  certain  tension,  a  certain  danger,  even  in 
the  simplest  words,  and  Miss  llallin's  call  to  supper 
was  very  welcome. 

The  frugal  meal  went  gaily.  The  chattering  Christ- 
cluirch  boy  brought  to  it  a  breath  of  happy,  careless 
life,  to  which  the  three  others  —  over-driven  and 
over-pressed,  all  of  them  —  responded  with  a  kind  of 
eagerness.  Hallin  especially  delighted  in  him,  and 
would  have  out  all  his  budget  — his  peacock's  pride 
at  having  been  just  put  into  the  'Varsity  eleven,  his 
cricket  engagements  for  the  summer,  his  roAvs  with 
his  dons,  above  all  his  lasting  amazement  that  he 
should  have  just  scraped  through  his  :Mods. 

"  I  thought  those  Roman  emperors  would  have  done 
for  me!"  he  declared,  with  a  child's  complacency. 
''Brutes!  I  couldn't  remember  them.  I  learnt  them 
up  and  down,  backwards  and  forwards  — but  it  was 
no  good;  they  nearly  dished  me!  " 

"Yet  it  comes  back  to  me,"  said  Hallin,  slily,  "that 
when  a  certain  person  was  once  asked  to  name  the 
winner  of  the  Derby  in  some  obscure  year,  he  began 
at  the  beginning,  and  gave  us  all  of  them,  from  first 
to  last,  without  a  hitch." 

"  The  winner  of  the  Derby ! "  said  the  lad,  eagerly, 
bending  forward  with  his  hands  on  his  knees;  "why, 
1  should  rather  think  so!  That  isn't  memory;  that's 
knowledge  !  —  Goodness !  who's  tliis ?  " 

The  last  remark  was  addressed  sotto  voce  to  ]\Iar- 
cella.  Supper  was  just  over,  and  the  two  guests,  with 
Hallin,  had  returned  to  the  window,  while  Miss  Hallin, 
stoutly  refusing  their  help,  herself  cleared  the  table 
and  set  all  straight. 


\rm 


iu-a\ 


150 


MAIiCELLA. 


Halliii,  hearing  a  knock,  had 


gone  to  tlie  door  ivl,iie 


Leven       ,  .i,„aK,„g.     i.our  men  eame  crowdin..  i„ 

Ills  sistei.  I  he  last  two  seemed  to  be  workmen'  the 
others  were  Bennett,  Hallin's  old  and  trie  f,';  ? 
among  «,eLahonr-.eaders,  and  Ne;:mia,    Wi  k'  s 

Leve'n.":  "e";''"'""'  """"  ''''  '"  ^arcelia  2; 
one  h  ,'t  «  ^  ™>^-™'ners  took  little  notice  of  any 
one  bnt  the.r  host,  and  were  soon  seated  about  h  m 
d.souss,„g  a  matter  already  apparently  familL  o 
them,  and  into  which  Hallin  had  thrown  him  eTf  at 
once  wrth  that  passionate  directness  whi  C  n  the 
socul  and  speculative  field,  replaced  his  o2,^ 
gentleness  of  manner.  He  seemed  to  be  in  so,  ^ 
disagreement  with  the  i-eqt      -  ,i:.  ^ 

troubled  himself  and  iLi^ed"  hem"''"""""  ''''''"" 

the^^n'."'  ^T"^  ""^^  "'"'  ^"i"''  ""rio^ity  from 
iiKea  to  go  forward  to  listen      Rnf  v.,^r.^.   t 
turned  suddenly  round  upon  her  wiafspX  e^T 

me  a  bit  "oh        '!  "?•     ""  """"  ^'^  ^''  ""'  -"h 
me  a  bit.     Oh,  isn't  it  rum!  isn't  it  rum/    Look  at 

Halhn      those  are  the  people  whom  he  oa...  to  talk 
to.     1  ha  's  a  shoemaker,  that  man  to  the  left  -  really 

think  llto^ld"*'/"""" -='■''*  ^•''^  --  ■"  f-"     I 

-  won  d  Hke  to  ^  ™'  '  '""°"'  ^  '°"'''"^'  <>'  -"- 
would  like  to  string  me  up  to-morrow.     Did  you 

ZlTl  tr"  I  "  ^°»"*«^    Wheneyer  tha    iC 
beg  IS,  I  think  we  must  be  precious  near  to  shootin^ 
And  he's  pious  too,  would  pray  oyer  us  first  and  si "Ci 
us  afterwards -which  isn't  the  case,  I  understand 
with  many  of  'em.     Then   the  othe  s-^    ,  tow 


I 


001'  vvliile 
^'Jiiig  in, 
alliii  and 
men;  the 
itl  friend 
Wilkins, 
iella  and 
3  of  any 
•out  him 
liliar  to 
mself  at 

in  the 
)rdinary 

strong 
k  whicli 

''J  from 
d  liave 

Leven 
g  eyes. 
L-e  with 
^ook  at 
fco  talk 
■  really 
:ont,  I 
course 
id  you 
t  man 
otiiig. 

shoot 
stand, 
know 


I 


MARCELLA. 


167 


them?  TJiat's  Bennett  — regular  good  follow— always 
tolling  his  pals  not  to  make  fools  of  themselves  —  for 
wliich  of  eourse  they  love  liim  no  more  than  they  are 
ohliged— And  Wilkins— oh!  Wilkins''  —  hG  chuckled 
—  "  they  say  it'll  come  to  a  beautiful  row  in  the  House 
before  they've  done,  between  him  and  my  charming 
cousin,  Harry  Wharton.  My  father  says  he  backs 
Wilkins." 

Then  suddenly  the  lad  recollected  himself  and  his 
clear  cheek  coloured  a  little  after  a  hasty  glance  at 
his  companion.  He  fell  to  silence  and  looking  at  his 
boots.  Marcella  wondered  what  was  the  matter  with 
him.  Since  her  flight  from  Mellor  she  had  lived,  so 
to  speak,  with  her  head  in  the  sand.  She  herself  had 
never  talked  directly  of  her  own  affairs  to  anybody. 
Her  sensitive  pride  did  not  let  her  realise  tliat,  not- 
withstanding, all  the  world  was  aware  of  them. 

"I  don't  suppose  you  k;iow  much  about  your 
cousin!  "  she  said  to  him  with  a  little  scorn. 

"Well,  I  don't  want  to! "  sairl  the  lad,  "that's  one 
comfort!  But  I  don't  know  an> ;  limg  about  anything' 
—  MissBoyce!" 

He  plunged  his  head  in  his  hands,  and  Marcella, 
lookmg  at  him,  saw  at  once  that  she  was  meant  to 
understand  she  had  woe  and  lamentation  beside  her. 
Her  black  eyes  danced  with  laughter.  At  Mellor 
she  had  been  several  times  his  confidante.  The  hand- 
some lad  was  not  apparently  very  fond  of  his  sisters 
and  had  taken  to  her  from  the  beginning.  To-night 
she  recognised  the  old  symptoms. 

"What,  you  have  been  getting  into  scrapes  again?" 
she  said  —  "  how  many  since  we  met  last?  " 


^^^^1 

ll'^l 

IMH 

i  ^l 


158 


MARCKLLA. 


"Ther 
from  beh 

ilavcolla  tea.se(l  ]iii„  a  litt  Ir  nu.re  till 


v!youmk,.fu,,„fit...,,„„ai,Ii„,lig„a„tly 


you're  like  all  t,h.>  ivst." 
at  last  she  was 


all!  ^"''•'■""'y  Soins  I  >  chaff  a  felloe-  let's  go  over 
here  and  talk!    A.ul  yet  I  ,li,l  want  to  tell  y„u  aZt 

LZ^r  '"''""^'  """  '°  '""  ''-™  •''*  I'o."       I 
want  to  tell  you  -  an,l  I  don't  want  to  tell  yon  _  per- 

.aps  I  oughtn't  to  tell  yon-yon'll  think  mo  I  hrn  o 
I  .tare  say  an  unge„tlen,an!y  brute  for  speaki!.!  o    i 
at  all  —  and  yet  somehow  —  "  i     »'"»  or  it 

u»ed  to  these  n.otherly  ways  with'hl  Tul'^Z 
he  strength  of  her  seniority,  so  inadequately  me^I',ed 
by  Its  two  years  or  so  of  time !  ^  measuied 

"I  won't  laugh,"  she  said,  "tell  nie  " 
"Jfo  — realh  '  —  shall  I?" 

Whereupon  there  burst  fort^  a  history  precisely 
s  milar  .t  ,  oemed  to  .„me  half  uozen  othL  she  S 
a  ready  heard  from  ti.  .au>e  lips,  .  pr..  ;  g  ',  -t 
.athcr    an  e^quis.te  ereature !  "      et  It    '  I  ho'      of 

at  Oxford,  and  yet  again  at  Commemoration  ,alls 
Kuneham  pic  les.  and  the  rest;  adored  and  adorable: 
yet  of  eourse,  a  sphin  born  fo.  the  torment  of  nen 
taking  her  haughty  way  over  a  prostrate  sex  ki^^i 
to-da:  cruel  to-morrow;  not  to  Le  won  by  men ef 
yet,  natnraJl;-  not  to  be  won  without  it;  po^seS 
like  Kose  Aylmer  of   "everv  vi,.t„»    „       Po^^^ssed 

whether  of  forn;  or  fa.nilv   Zf       ^  "'^  ^™'' 
oi  lamiiy;  yet  making  nothinc  hnt. 


f 


MA  liCELLA. 


169 


(lignantly 

fill"  rest." 
it  she  was 
he  hastily 


s  go  over 
^ou  about 
lioiiio.  I 
>u— per- 
a  brute, 
:ing  of  it 

arrested 
lad  been 
Bllor,  on 
leasured 


L'ecisely 
die  had 
rl  -  -  or 
ouse  of 
Hoats  " 
.dls, 
arable ; 
f  raen, 
,  kind 
loney, 
sessed 
race, " 

V  hnf 


a  devastating  and  doatli-dealing  use  of  tliem  — how 
familiar  it  all  was!  — and  how  many  more  of  them 
there  seem.'d  to  be  in  the  world,  on  a  man's  reckoning, 
tl,.in  on  a  woman's! 

"And  you  know,"  said  Mie  lad,  eagerly,  "though 
she's  H()/w//i(/-/,//y  pretty—  .veil   frightl.dly  fetcliing, 
rather  — and  well  dressed  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  slie 
isn't  a  bit  silly,  not  one  of  your  empty-headed  girls 
—  nut  she.     She's  read  a  ht  of  things  — a  lot!     I'm 
sure,  Miss  Boyce"  — lie  looked  at  her  confidently,— 
"  if  you  were  to  see  her  you'd  think  her  awfully  clever. 
And  yet  she's  so  little  — and  so  dainty  — and  she 
dances  — my  goodness!    you  should   see   her  dance, 
skirt-dance  I  mean  — Letty  !.ind  isn't  in  it!     Slie's 
good  too,  awfully  good.     I  think  her  mother's  a  most 
dreadful  old  bore  — well,  no,  I  didn't  mean  that  — 
of  course  I  didn't  mean  that!— but  she's  fussy,  you 
know,  and  invalidy,  and  has  to  be  wrapped  up  in 
shawls,  and  dragged  about  in  bath  chairs,  and  Betty's 
an  angel  to  her  — she  is  really  —  though  her  mother's 
always  snapping  her  head  off.     And  as  to  the  poor  —  " 
Something  in  his  tone,  in  the  way  he  liad  of  fishing 
for  her  approval,  sent  Maicella  into  a  sudden  fit  of 
laugliter.     Then  she  put  out  a  liand  to  restrain  this 
plunging  lover. 

"  Look  liere  —  do  come  to  the  point  —  have  you  pro- 
posed to  her?  " 

"I  should        iier   think   I   have!"   said  the  boy 
fervently.     "  Abov  .  .oo  a  week  since  Christmas.     Of 
course  slie's  played  with  me  — t'  .t  sort  always  does 
--but  I  think  I  niiglit  really  have  a  chance  with  her. 
if  it  wer.   .-'t  for  her     lother  — honible  rid —  no,  of 


i' 


r ' ! 


It 


r 


160 


MAUCFLLA. 


l'  If! 


ilj 


id' 
'lii 


ronrsel  don't  moHu  that!     ]]nt  now  it  comes  in-^^ 

you!     T  m  always  making  a  b.astly  mess  of  it.     It's 
because  I  can't  help  talking  of  it!  " 

And  shaking  lii.s  cnrly  i  nad  in  despair,  he  once  more 
plunged  his  red  cheeks  into  his  hands  and  fell  abruptly 
silent.  ^    " 

Marcella  colonred  for  sympathy.  -I  really  wish 
you  wouldn  L  talk  in  riddles,"  slie  said.  ''What  ,s 
the  matter  with  youV_of  course  you  must  tell  me." 
Well,  I  know  you  won't  mind!"  cried  the  lad 
emerging.  "As  if  you  could  mind!  But  it  sound.; 
like  my  impudence  to  be  talking  to  you  about -about 

with  the  Kaeburns.  She's  a  connection  of  theirs 
somehow,  and  Miss  Itaeburn's  taken  a  fancy  to  liei 
lately --and  her  mother's  treated  me  like  dirt  ever 
since  they  asked  her  to  go  to  Italy -and  naturally  a 
fe  low  sees  what  that  means -and  what  her  mother's 
after.  I  don't  believe  Betty  zvould;  he's  too  old  for 
her    isn't  he?     Oh,  my  goodness!  "-this  time   he 

Zp  .  T  ""*'  "',  ''"'  clesperation-'^now  I  have 
done  It  I  m  simply  bursting  always  with  the  thing 
I  d  rather  cut  my  head  off  than  say.  Why  they  make 
'em  like  me  I  don't  know '  "  ^ 


"You 


mean, 


a,,    ,,  -      ^^^^  Marcella,   with    impatience  — 

that  her  mother  wants  her  to  marry  Mr.  Kaeburn"" 
He  looked  round  at  his  compnnion.  She  was  lyin^^ 
back  in  a  deep  chair,  her  hands  lightly  clasped  on  het- 
knee.  Something  in  her  attitude,  in  the  pose  of  the 
tragic  head,  m  the  expression  of  the  face  stamped 
to-night  with  a  fatigue  which  was  also  a  dignity 


.*, 


MMtVKLLA. 


161 


once  moro 


struck  a  real  coinpuiu-ti,,!,  into  his  mood  ol'  vanity  ami 
excitement.  He  had  simply  not  been  abU'  to  msint  the 
temptation  to  talk  to  her.  Sim  reminded  him  of  the 
Raeburns,  and  tlu,  Kaeburns  werr  in  his  mind  at 
til.,  present  moment  by  day  and  by  ni^ht.  H<.  knew 
that  he  wiis  probably  (h.ing  an  iiuhdicate  and  iudis- 
ereet  thing,  but  all  the  same  his  l,ovish  egotism  would 
not  be  restrained  from  the  headlong  pursuit  ot  his  own 
emotions.  There  was  in  him  too  sueh  a  burnin.- 
curiosity  as  to  how  she  would  take  it  — what  she 
would  say. 

Now  however  ho  felt  a  genuine  shrinking.  His  look 
changed.  Drawing  his  chair  close  u],  to  her  he  began 
a  series  of  penitent  and  self-contradic-tory  excuses 
which  Mareella  soon  broke  in  upon. 

''I  don't  know  why  you  talk  like  that,"  she  said, 
looking  at  him  steadily.    ^'  Do  you  suppose  I  can  go  on 
all  my  life  without  hearing  Mr.  Raeburn's  name  men- 
tioned?   And  don't  apologise  so  much!     It   really 
doesn't  matter  what  I  suppose  -  that  you  think - 
about  my  present  state  of  mind.     It  is  very  simple 
I  ought  never  to  have  accepted  Mr.  Raeburn      I  be- 
haved badly.     I  kno.v  it-and  everybody  knows  it 
htill  one  has  to  go  on  living  one's  life  somehow.     The 
point  IS  that  I  am  rather  the  wrong  person  for  you  to 
come  to  just  now,  for  if  there  is  one  thing  1  ardently 
wish  about  Mr.  Kaeburn,  it  is  that  he  should  get  him- 
self married." 

Frank  Leven  looked  at  her  in  bewildered  dismay 

'a  never  thought  of  that,"  he  said. 

*'  Well,  you  might,  mightn't  yoa  ?  " 

For  anotlier  short  space  there  was  silence  between 

VOt.  II.  —  11 


.'I  , 


r!     '  m 


162 


MARCELLA. 


them    while  the  rush  c.f  talk  in  the  centre  of  the  room 
was  still  loud  and  unspent. 

Then  she  rated  herself  for  want  of  sympathy.  Frank 
sat  beside  her  shy  and  uncomfortable,  his  confidence 
cniiled  away, 

"  So  you  think  Miss  Raeburn  has  views  ? "  she 
asked  him,  smiling,  and  in  her  most  ordinary  voice 

ihe  boy's  eye  brightened  again  with  the  implied 
permission  to  go  on  chattering. 

"  I  know  she  has  !  Betty's  brother  as  good  as  told 
me  that  she  and  Mrs.  Macdonald  -  that's  Betty's 
mother -she  hasn't  got  a  father -had  talked  it  over 
And  now  Betty's  going  with  tiiem  to  Italy,  and  Aldous 
IS  going  too  for  ten  days -and  when  1  go  to  the 
Macaon  .Ids  Mrs.  Macdonald  treats  me  as  if  1  were  a 
ittle  chap  in  jackets,  and  Betty  worrie.  me  to  death. 
It  s  sickening  I " 

"And  how  about  .Mr.  Baeburn  '.' '' 
"Oh   Aldous  seems  to  like  her' very  much,"  he  said 
despondently.     <<She\    <ilu'.iv«    f«.  ■  i 

l,i,n     AVI         ,    ,     .  -^      teasing  and   amusing 

urn.    AVhen  she's  there  she  never  lets  him  alone.    She 
harries  him  out.     She  makes  him  read  to  her  and  ride 
with  her.     She  makes  him  discuss  all  sorts  of  thin-^s 
with  her  you'd  never  think  Aldous  would  discuss  1 
her  lovers  and  her  love  affairs,  and  being  in  love'- 
its  extraordinary  the  way  she  drives  him  round.     At 
i^^aster  she  and  her  mother  were  staying  at  the  (.'ourt, 
and  o,.e  night  Betty  told  me  she  was  bored  to  death 
was  a  very  smart  party,  but  everything  was  so  flat 
and  everybody  was  so  dull.     So  she  suddenly  got  up 
and    ran   across   to   Aldous.     ^.Vow   look    heiv,    M- 
Aldous,    she   said;    '  this'll  never  do!   you've  got  to 


MARCELLA. 


163 


come  and  dance  with  me,  and  push  those  chairs  and 
tables  aside'- 1  can  fancy  the  little  stamp  she'd 
give  -  'and  make  those  other  people  dance  too  '  And 
she  made  him -she  positively  made  him.  Aldous 
declared  he  didn't  dance,  and  she  wouldn't  have  a 
word  of  It.  And  presently  she  got  to  all  her  tricks 
skirt-dancing  and  the  rest  of  it —ami  of  course  the 
evening  went  like  smoke." 

Marcella's  eyes,  unusually  wide  open,  were  some- 
what  intently  fixed  on  the  speaker. 

J^^""^  ^!"\  ^*^'^"'''  ^'^^'^  ^^  •  "  '^^  ^«ked  in  a  tone 
that  sounded  incredulous. 

"Didn't  he  just?  She  told  me  they  got  regular 
close  friends  after  that,  and  he  tohl  her  everything- 
oh,  well,"  said  the  lad,  embarrassed,  and  elutohing  at 
his  usual  forn,ula-"of  course,  I  didn't  mean  that. 
And  she's  fearfully  flattered,  you  can  see  she  is,  and 
she  ells  me  that  she  adores  him -that  lie's  the  only 
great  man  she's  ever  known -that  I'm  not  fit  to 
black  his  boots,  and  ought  to  be  grateful  whenever 
he  speaks  to  me -and  all  that  sort  of  rot.  And  now 
she  s  going  off  ^m,  j,,,,,,      j  ^,^^j,  |_^^^  ^^  ^^^^ 

sell  —  I  declare  I  shall ! " 
"  Well,  not  yet,"  said  Marcella,  in  a  soothing  voice ; 
the  ease  isn't  clear  enough.     Wait  till  they  com 

to  tha;  tf  ""nT  '  ''"  '''''^  '''''  ^^-^-^  *«  listen 
to  that  talk.  But -first -come  and  see  me  when- 
ever you  like -3  to  4.30,  Brown's  Buildings,  Maine 
Sti-eet  -  and  tell  me  how  this  goes  on  '^ " 

She  s^poke  with   a   careless  lightness,  laughing  at 

nm  with  a  half  sisterly  freedom.    She  h.;.l  H.' !.  tn 

iier  seat,  and  he,  whose  thoughts  Jiad  been  wrapped 


f! 

i  ; 


i     1 


I  ; 


164 


MAUCELLA. 


up  for  months  in  one  of  the  smallest  of  the  sex,  was 
suddenly  struck  with  her  height  and  stately  gesture 
as  she  moved  away  from  him. 

"By  Jove!  Why  didn't  she  stick  to  Aldous,"  he 
said  to  himself  discontentedly  as  his  eyes  followed 
her.  ''  It  was  only  her  cranks,  and  of  course  she'll 
get  rid  of  them.    Just  like  my  luck  !  " 

Meanwhile  Marcella  took  a  seat  next  to  Miss  Hal- 
lin,  who  looked  up  from  her  knitting  to  smile  at  her. 
The  girl  fell  into  the  attitude  of  listening;  but  for 
some  minutes  she  was  not  listening  at  all.  She  was 
reflecting  how  little  men  knew  of  each  other !  —  even 
the  most  intimate  friends  — and  trying  to  imagine 
what  Aldous  Raeburn  would  be  like,  married  to  such 
a  charmer  as  Frank  had  sketched.  Ifis  friendship  for 
her  meant,  of  course,  the  attraction  of  contraries  — 
one  of  the  most  promising  of  all  possible  beginnings. 
On  the  whole,  she  thought  Frank's  chances  were 
poor. 

Then,  unexpectedly,  her  ear  was  caught  by  Whar- 
ton's name,  and  she  discovered  that  what  was  going 
on  beside  her  was  a  passionate  discussion  of  his 
present  position  and  prospects  in  the  Labour  party 
—  a  discussion,  however,  mainly  confined  to  Wilkins 
and  the  two  workmen.  Bennett  had  the  nir  of  the 
shrewd  and  kindly  spectator  who  has  his  own  reasons 
for  treating  a  situation  with  reserve ;  and  Hallin  was 
lying  back  in  his  chair  flushed  and  worn  out.  The 
previous  debate,  which  had  now  merged  in  these  ques- 
tions of  men  and  personalities,  had  made  him  misera- 
ble} h9  \\^<X  no  heart  for  anything  more.    Miss  Hallin 


MARCELLA. 


165 


sex,  was 
'  gesture 

oils,"  he 
folloAved 
se  she'll 


;iss  Hal- 
5  at  her. 
but  for 
She  was 
I  —  even 
imagine 
to  such 
ship  for 
raries  — 
innings, 
es  were 

\'  Whar- 
LS  going 

of  his 
ir  party 
VVilkins 

of  the 
reasons 
Hill  was 
t.  The 
36  ques- 
misera- 
>  H.aiin 


observed  him  anxiously,  and  made  restless  movements 
now  and  then,  as  though  she  had  it  in  her  mind  to 
send  all  her  guests  away. 

The  two  Socialist  workmen  were  talking  strongly 
in  favour  of  an  organised  and  distinct  Labour  party, 
and  of  Wharton's  leadership.  They  referred  con- 
stantly to  Parnell,  and  what  he  had  done  for  ''  those 
Irish  fellows."  The  only  uay  to  make  Labour  for- 
midable in  the  House  was  to  learn  the  lesson  of 
Unionism  and  of  Parnellism,  to  act  together  and 
strike  together,  to  make  of  the  party  a  ''two-handed 
engine,"  ready  to  smite  Tory  and  Liberal  impartially. 
To  this  end  a  separate  <n-ganisatioii,  separate  place  in 
the  House,  separate  Whips  — they  were  ready,  nay 
clamorous,  for  them  all.  And  they  were  equally 
determined  on  Harry  Wharton  as  a  leader.  They 
spoke  of  the  Clarion  with  enthusiasm,  and  declared 
that  its  owner  was  already  an  independent  power, 
and  was,  moreover,  as  "straight"  as  he  was  sharp. 

The  contention  and  the  praise  lashed  Wilkins  into 
fury.  After  making  one  or  two  visible  efforts  at  a 
sarcastic  self-control  which  came  to  nothing,  he  broke 
out  into  a  flood  of  invective  which  left  the  rest  of  the 
room  staring.  Marcella  found  herself  indignantly 
wondering  who  this  big  man,  with  his  fierce  eyes,  long, 
puffy  cheeks,  coarse  black  hair,  and  Xorth-country 
accent,  might  be.  Why  did  he  talk  in  this  way,  with 
these  epithets,  this  venom  ?     It  was  intolerable  ! 

Hallin  roused  himself  from  his  fatigue  to  play  the 
peace-maker.  But  some  of  the  things  Wilkins  had 
been  saying  had  put  up  the  backs  of  the  two  work- 
men, and  the  talk  flamed  up  unmanageably  -  W'ilkins'.s 


MAItCELLA. 

dialect  getting  more  pronounced  with  each  step  of  tlie 
argument. 

"  Well,  if  I'd  ever  ha'  thowt  that  I  war  cooniin'  to 
Lunnon  to  put  myself  and  my  party  oonder  the  heel 
o  Muster  Harry  Wharton,  I'd  ha'  stayed  at  home,  I 
tell  tha,"  cried  Wilkins,  slapping  his  knee.     "  If  it's 
to  be  the  People's  party,  why,  in  the  name  o'  God 
must  yo  put  a  yoong  ripstitch  like  yon  at  the  head 
of  It  ?  a  man  who'll  just  mak  use  of  us  all,  you  an' 
me,  and  ivery  man  Jack  of  us,  for  his  own  advance- 
ment, an'  ull  kick  us  down  when  he's  done  with  us ' 
Why  shouldn't  he?     What  is  he  ?     Is  he  a  man  of 
ns-  bone   of  our   bone  ?     He's   a  landlord,  and  an 
aristocrat,  I  tell  tha !    What  have  the  likes  of  him 
ever  been  but  thorns  in  our  side  ?    When  have  the 
landlords  ever  gone   with  the  people?     Have  they 
not  been  the  blight  and  the  curse  of  the  country  for 
hun  erds  of  years  ?     And  you're  goin'  to  tell  me  that 
a  man   bred   out   o'   them -living  on  his  rent  and 
interest  -  grinding   the    faces   of  the   poor,   I'll   be 
bound  if  the  truth  were  known,  as  all  the  rest  of 
them  do- is  goin'  to  lead  me,  an'  those  as'll  act  with 
me  to  the  pullin'  down  of  the  landlords !     AVhy  are 
we  to  go  lickspittlin'  to  any  man  of  his  sort  to  do 

Z\  Z  !:'"  "'  •  ^'^  ^"'"  8-«  ^«  ^"«  «^^^  class  _  I'm 
told  Mr  A\  harton  is  mighty  fond  of  countesses,  and 
they  of  him !  -  or  let  him  set  up  as  the  friend  of  the 
working  man  just  as  he  likes -I'm  quite  agreeable' 
-  1  Shan  t  make  any  bones  about  takin'  his  vote;  but 
i  m  not  goin'  to  make  him  master  over  me,  and  give 
nin  the  right  to  speak  for  my  mates  in  the  House  of 
Commons.     I'd  cut  my  hand  off  fust ! " 


MARC  ELL  A. 


167 


ep  of  the 

30111  in'  to 
the  heel 
;  home,  I 
''li  it's 
o'  God, 
the  head 
.  you  an' 
advance- 
^vith  us ! 
man  of 
and  an 
of  him 
lave  tlie 
ve  they 
itry  for 
me  that 
3nt  and 
I'll   be 
rest  of 
LCt  with 
'liy  are 
b  to  do 
5  ~  I'm 
es,  and 
of  the 
seable  ! 
^e;  but 
id  give 
>use  of 


!  i  I. , 


Leven  grinned  in  the  background.  Bennett  lay  back 
in  his  chair  with  a  worried  look.  Wilkins's  crudities 
were  very  distasteful  to  him  both  in  and  out  of  the 
House.  The  younger  of  the  Socialist  workmen,  a 
mason,  with  a  strong  square  face,  incongruously  lit 
somehow  with  the  eyes  of  the  religious  dreamer, 
looked  at  VVilkins  contemptuously. 

"There's  none  of  you  in  the  House  will  take  orders," 
he  said  quickly,  "and  that's  the  ruin  of  us.  VVe  all 
know  that.  Where  do  you  think  we'd  have  been  in 
the  struggle  with  the  employers,  if  we'd  gone  about 
our  business  as  you're  going  about  yours  in  tlie  House 
of  Commons  ?  " 

''  I'm  not  saying  we  shouldn't  organise,''  said  Wil- 
kins,  fiercely.  "  What  I'm  sayin'  is,  get  a  man  of  the 
working  class— a  man  who  has  the  wants  of  the 
working  class— a  man  whom  the  working  class  can 
get  a  hold  on  —  to  do  your  business  for  you,  and  not 
any  bloodsucking  landlord  or  capitalist.  It's  a  slap  i' 
the  face  to  ivery  honest  working  man  i'  the  coontry, 
to  mak'  a  Labour  party  and  put  Harry  Wharton  at  t' 
head  of  it ! " 

The  young  Socialist  looked  at  him  askance  "  Of 
course  you'd  like  it  yourself!"  was  wliat  he  was 
thinking.  "But  they'll  take  a  man  as  can  hold  his 
own  with  the  swells  —  and  quite  right  too  !  " 

"And  if  Mr.  Wharton  is  a  landlord  he's  a  good 
sort!"  exclaimed  the  shoemaker -a  tall,  lean  man 
in  a  well-brushed  frock  coat.  -  There's  many  on  us 
knows  as  have  been  to  hear  him  speak,  wiiat  he's 
tried  to^do  about  the  land,  and  tiie  co-operative  farm- 
K's  straifjht   is  Mr.  Wharton.     We  'aven't   got 


■I  i 


''I  tell  tha  he's  playiii' for  his  own  hand!"  said 
W,lkn,s,  .loggeclly,   the   ml  spot    deepening  „„    " 
earthy  cheek -"he's  .-unnin'that  pap.r  for  his  o 
ha.       Haven't  I  had  exp,rie„ee  of  hh„  ?  I  k„o:™ 
-And  .  11  prove  it  some  day !   He's  one  for  featherin' 
US  own  nest  ,s  Mr,  Wharton -and  when  he's  dooT^ 
by  makkn>'  fools  of  us,  he'll  leave  „s  to  whisT  for 
any  good  we're  iver  likely  to  get  out  o'  MmffeZ 
agen  the  landlords  when  it  eoom  to  the  real  toos,:^e  -1 
I  know  'em  - 1  tell  tha  _  I  know  'em '" 
^^^  A  woman's  voice,  clear  and  scornful,  broke  into  the 

we" !!'%''  T"  '*'"^"^''  '"  *'■'"'''  '■'"■'  it-  that  while 
we  „,   Loudon  go  on  groaning  and  moaning  abont 

n.au,  ary  houses,  and  n,aking  our  sn.all  attemp'ts  he  e 
and  there,  halt  of  the  country  poor  of  Engla.'d  ha  e 
been  re-ho„sed  n.  our  generation  by  these  "same  land- 
lo  ds-„o  fuss  about  it_a„d  rents  for  five-rocmed 
cottages,    somewhere    about    one    and    fourp-nee  1 

sue'lker  ?""*  n  '  "'''"'  ''^"'^  ''"''   '»°''««1  »'  th" 
speaker  —  amazed ! 

Wilkins  also  stared  at  her  under  his  eyebrows.  He 
did  not  like  women  —  least  of  all,  ladies 

He  gruffly  replied  tiiat  if  they  ha.i  done  anythin.. 
1  ke  as  much  as  she  said  -  which,  he  begged  her  2^ 
.Ion,  but  he  didu-t  believe -it  was  don 'tor  thrhfut 

oi    just   for  show  and  aggrandisement.     People  who 
l'a.l    prize   pigs   „,„1    ^,-,^   ^^j^,^   ,„^^^^    J^  ^2" 


MABCELLA. 


169 


<!ottage.s  of  (ioiirsp  —  "  witl 


'em 


t" 


1  ii   nice  of  slaves  inside 


Mareella,  l.right-eyed,  erect,  i,er  thin  right  hand 
hanging  over  lier  knee,  went  avengingly  into  facts - 
the  difference  between  landlords'  villages  and  -open" 
villages ;  the  agrarian  experiments  made  by  different 
great  landlords;  the  advantage  to  the  community, 
even  frorn  the  Socialist  point  of  view  of  a  system 
Nvhich  had  ],reserved  the  land  in  great  blocks,  for  the 
ultiinate  use  of  the  State,  as  compared  with  a  system 
Z^  .-hich  had  for  ever  made  Socialism 

Hallin's  astonishment  almost  swept  away  his  weari- 
ness.  "^ 

"Where  in  the  world  did  she  get  it  all  from,  and 
IS  she  standing  on  her  head  or  am  I '/  " 

After  an  animated  httle  debate,  in  which  Bennett 
and  the  two  workmen  joined,  while  Wilkins  sat  for 
the  most  part  in  moody,  contemptuons  silence,  and 
Mareella,  her  obstinacy  roused,  carried  through  her 
defence  of  the  landlords  uith  all  a  woman's  love  of 
emphasis  and  paradox,  everybody  rose  simultaneously 
to  say  good-night.  ^ 

;  Vou  ought  to  come  and  lea-l  a  debate  down  at  our 
Limehouse  clulV  said  Bennett  pleasantly  to  Mareella, 

beating ''     "'''  ^"'  ''''"''  ''  ^""' '  ''•''""''^  '''^'  ^  ^«^  ^>^ 

ing;"^  Ji"'  ^'"'"■"''  ''''  ''""'"  ^''^^  ^^^'^'  ^-^^^- 

He  shook  his  head,  laughed  too,  and  departed 
^^^^iHM.  the  fo,n.   bad   gone.   Mareella   turne.l   upon 


f  I 


170 


MARCELLA. 


"Are  there  many  of  tliese  Labour  members   like 
that?'' 

Her  tone  was  still  vibrating  and  s  iroastic. 

"He's  not  much  of  a  talker,  our  Xehemiah,"  saici 
Hallin,  smiling;  '-but  he  has  the  most  extraordinary 
power  as  a  speaker  over  a  large  popular  audience  that 
I  have  ever  seen.  The  man's  honesty  is  amazing  - 
It's  his  tempers  and  his  jealousies  get  in  his  way 
You  astonished  him ;  but,  for  the  matter  of  that,  you 
astonished  Frank  and  me  still  more  ! " 

And  as  he  fell  back  into  his  chair,  Marcella  caught 
a  flash  of  expression,  a  tone  that  somehow  put  her  on 
her  defence. 

"  1  was  not  going  to  listen  to  such  unjust  stuff  with- 
out a  word.  Politics  is  one  thing  ~  slanderous  abuse 
IS  another!  "  she  said,  throwing  back  her  head  with  a 
gesture  wliich  instantly  brought  back  to  Hallin  the 
scene  in  the  Mellor  drawing-room,  when  she  l.a.l 
denounced  the  game-laws  and  Wharton  had  scored 
his  first  point. 

He  was  silent,  feeling  a  certain  inner  exasperation 
with  women  and  their  ways. 

"'She  only  did  it  to  annoy,'"  cried  Frank  Leven; 
"'because  she  knows  it  teases.'  We  know  very  well 
what  she  thinks  of  us.  But  where  did  you  get  it  all 
from,  Miss  Hoyce  ?  1  just  wish  you'd  tell  me.  There's 
a  horrid  Radical  in  the  House  I'm  ahvays  having  rows 
with  — and  upon  my  word  I  didn't  know  there  was 
half  so  much  to  be  said  for  us  ! " 

Marcella  flushed. 

"Never  mind  where  I  got  it.'"  she  said. 

In  reality,  of  course,  it  was  from  those  Agricultural 


i'      •! 


MAIWKLLA. 


171 


mbers    like 


niah,"  saiu 
;raordinary 
iience  that 
-mazing,  — 
I  his  way. 
that,  you 

lla  caught 
)ut  her  on 

stuff  with- 
ous  abuse 
sad  with  a 
[allin  the 
she  hail 
^d  scored 

isperatiou 

k  Leven; 
very  well 
get  it  all 
There's 
'■ing  rows 
here  was 


icultui-al 


I       Reports   she   had  worked   through    the  year   before 
1       under  Wharton's  teaching,  with  so  nuich  angry  zest 
and  to  such  different  purpose.  ' 


W  hen  the  door  closed  upon  her  and  upon  Frank 
Leven,  who  was  to  escort  her  homo.  Hallin  walked 
quickly  over  to  the  table,  and  stood  looking  for  a 
moment  in  a  sort  of  bitter  reverie  at  Raeburn's  photo- 
graph.  ^ 

His  sister  followed  him,  and  laid  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder. 

"  Do  go  to  bed,  Edward  !  I  am  afraid  that  talk  has 
tired  you  dreadfully." 

"It  would  be  no  good  going  to  bed,  dear,"  he  said 
with  a  sigh  of  exhaustion.     '^  I  will  sit  and  read  a  bit^ 
and  see  ,f  I  can  get  myself  into  sleeping  trim      But 
you  go,  Alice  — good-night." 

When  she  had  gone  he  threw  himself  into  his  chair 
again  with  the  thought-  '•  She  must  contradict  here 
as  she  contradicted  there !  M. -and  justice  '  If 
she  eould  have  been  just  to  a  landlord  for  one  hour 
last  year  —  " 

He  spent  hin.self  for  a  while  in  endless  chains  of 
recollection,  oppressed  by  the  clearness  of  his  own 
brain,  and  thirsting  for  sleep.  Then  from  the  affairs 
of  Raeburn  and   Marcella,  he  passed  with   a  fresh 

siorMv,th  those  four  men  which  had  filled  the  first 
pa  t  of  .he  evening  weighed  upon  him  in  his  weak- 
ues  of  nerve,  so  that  suddenly  in  the  phantom  silence 
of  the  night,  all  life  became  an  oppression  and  a  ter- 
ror  a,^  rest,  either  to-night  or  in  the  future,  a  thing 
iie\er  to  be  his.  ° 


W 


ii     .: 


4\ 
"If  I 


172 


MAliCKi  LA. 


1(1 1 


if    : 


IF! 


H.>  liiid  come  to  the  nioiiieut  of  difficulty, ,  i  tragc 
in  a  career  which  so  far,  in  spite  of  all  drawbacks  „i 
physical  health  and  craniped  activities,  ha  .  been  one 
of  singula    happiness  and  success.     Ever  since  he  had 
discovered  his  own  gifts  as  a  lecturer  to  workitig  men, 
content,  chforfulness,  nay,  a  passionate   interest  in 
every  hour,  liad  been  quite  compatible  for  him  with 
all  the  i)ermanent  limitations  of  his  lot.     The  study 
of  economical  and  historical  (lupstions;  the  expression 
through  t  hem  of  such  a  hunger  for  the  building  of  a 
"city  of  God  "  among  men,  as  few  are  capable  of;  the 
evidence  not  to  be  ignored  even  by  his  modesty,  and 
perpetually  forthcoming  over  a  long  period  of  time, 
that  he  had  the  power  to  be  loved,  the  power  to  lead! 
among  those  toilers  r     the  world  on   whom  all  his 
thoughts  centred— these  things  hadbe.u  his  joy,  and 
had  led  him  easily  through  much  self-denial  to  the 
careful   husbanding      f  every  hour  of  strength  and 
time  in  the  service  of  his  ideal  end. 

And  now  he  had  come  npon  opposition —the  first 
cooling  of  friendships,  the  first  distrust  of  friends  that 
he  had  ever  known. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  this  year  a  book  called 
To-morroio  and  the  Land  had  a]jpeared  in  London, 
written  by  a  young  London  economist  of  great  ability, 
and  dealing  with  the  nationalisation  of  the  land.  It 
did  not  offer  much  discussion  of  the  general  question, 
but  It  took  up  the  question  as  it  affected  England 
specially  and  London  in  particular.  It  showed  — or 
tried  to  show  —  in  picturesque  detail  what  might  be 
the  consequences  for  English  rural  or  municipal  lif' 
of  throwing  all  land  into  a  common  or  national  stock 


MAltCELLA. 


173 


of  tragerh'. 
xwbacks  ot 
been  one 
nc(?  he  had 
rking  men, 
interest  in 
him  with 
The  study 
expression 
Iding  of  a 
>le  of ;  the 
•desty,  and 
d  of  time, 
3r  to  lead, 
)m  all  his 
is  joy,  and 
ial  to  the 
mgth  and 

-the  first 
ieuds  that 

•ok  railed 

London, 

at  ability. 

land.     It 

question, 

England 

•wed  —  01- 

might  be 

oipal  life 

lal  stoek, 


of  ex{.ropii.,  .ag  the  landlords,  and  transferring  all 
rent  to  the  i  ople,  to  the  effaeemen.  of  taxation  and 
the  mdefinite  enrichment  ot  the  common  lot.  The 
book  differed  from  Progress  and  Povert,/,  which  also 
powerf.;lly  and  directly  affected  the  English  working 
class,  in  that  it  su-ested  a  financial  sclieme,  of  great 
apparent  simplicity  and  ingenuity,  for  the  compensa- 
tion  of  tlie  landlords:  it  was  shorter,  and  more  easily 
to  be  -raspe  1  by  the  average  working  man ;  and  it  was 
writt.  a  singularly  crisi)  and  taking  style,  and  — 

by  th  p  of  a  number  of  telling  illustrations  bor- 

rowed .irectly  from  the  circumstances  of  the  larger 
English  towns,  especially  of  London  -  treated  with 
abundant  humour. 

The  thing  had  an  enormous  success  — in  popular 
phrase,  -  caught  on."  Soon  Hallin  found,  that  all  the 
more  active  and  intelligent  spirits  in  the  working, 
class  centres  where  he  was  in  vogue  as  a  lecturer  were 
touched  —  nay,  possessed  —  by  it.  The  crowd  of  more 
or  less  socialistic  newspapers  which  had  lately  sprung 
up  in  London  were  full  of  it;  the  working  men's  clubs 
rang  with  it.  It  seemed  to  him  a  madness  -  an  infec- 
tion ;  and  it  spread  like  one.  The  book  had  soon 
reached  an  immense  sale,  and  was  in  every  one'.,  hands. 

To  Hallin,  a  popular  teacher,  interested  above  all  in 
the  mingled  problems  of  ethics  and  economics,  such  an 
incident  was  naturally  of  extreme  importance.  But 
he  was  himself  opposed  by  deepest  conviction,  intel- 
lectual and  moral,  to  the  book  and  its  conclusior.s. 
ilie  more  its  success  grew,  the  more  eager  and  pas- 
sionate  became  his  own  desire  to  battle  with  it.  His 
platform,  of  course,  was  secured  to  him;  his  openin-s 


:M' 


rFTBTf   f  , 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


i^iii 


I" 


la.    i^ 


4,0 


1.4 


2.5 
2.2 

2.0 


1.8 


1.6 


M  APPLIED  IIVMGE     Inc 

Sr;  1653   East   Main   Street 

r-S  Rochester,    New   York         14609       USA 

:SS  (716)   482  -  OJOO  -  Phone 

:=  (716)   288  -  5989  -  Fax 


i;     ■?■ 


174 


MARCELLA. 


II 


:  m    A 


r.fe. 


n 


many.  Hundreds  and  thousands  of  men  all  over  Eng- 
land were  keen  to  know  what  he  had  to  say  about  the 
new  phenomenon. 

And  he  had  been  saying  his  say -throwing  into  it 
all  his  energies,  all  his  finest  work.     AVith  the  result 
that  — for  tne  first  time  in  eleven  years  — he  felt  his 
position  in  the  working-class  movement  giving  beneath 
his  feet,  and  his  influence  beginning  to  drop  from  his 
hand.     Coldness  in  place  of  enthusiasm ;  critical  aloof- 
ness in  place  of  affection  ;  readiness  to  forget  and  omit 
Jiim  in  matters  where  he  had  always  hitherto  belon-ed 
to  the  inner  circle  and  the  trusted  few -these  bit°ter 
ghosts,  with  their  hard,  unfamiliar  looks,  had  risen  of 
ate  in  his  world  of  idealist  effort  and  joy,  and  had 
brought  with  them  darkness  and  chill.     He  could  not 
give  way,  for  he  had  a  singular  unity  of  soul -it  had 
been  the  source  of  his  power -and  every  economical 
or  social  conviction  was  in  some  way  bound  up  with  the 
moral  and  religious  passion  which  was  his  being  — his 
inmost  nature.     And  his  sensitive  state  of  nerve  and 
brain,  his  anchorite's  way  of  life,  did  not  allow  him 
the  distractions  of  other  men.     The  spread  of  these 
and  other  similar  ideas  seemed  to  him  a  question  of 
the  future  of  England ;  and  he  had  already  begun  to 
throw   himself    into    the    unequal    struggle    with   a 
martyr's  tenacity,  and  with   some  prescience  of  the 
martyr's  fate. 

Even  Bennett !    As  he  sat  there  alone  in  the  dim 

amp-hght,  his  head  bent  over  his  knees,  his  hands 

hanging  loosely  before  him,  he  thought  bitterly  of  the 

defection  of  that  old  friend  who  had  stood  by  him 

through  so  many  lesser  contests.     It  was  i^upossibk 


Sk-.ii. 


MARCELLA. 


175 


g  into  it 
he  result 
I  felt  his 
r  beneath 
from  his 
cal  aloof- 
and  omit 
belonged 
3e  bitter 

risen  of 
and  had 
3uld  not 
—  it  had 
•nomical 
ivith  the 
ig— his 
rve  and 
ow  him 
)f  these 
ition  of 
ignn  to 
with   a 

of  the 

he  dim 

hands 

of  the 
)y  him 
josslble 


that  Bennett  should  think  the  schemes  of  th-^  book 
feasible  !  Yet  he  was  one  of  the  honestest  of  men,  and, 
within  a  certain  range,  one  of  the  most  clear-headed. 
As  for  the  others,  they  had  been  all  against  him. 
Intellectually,  their  opinion  did  not  matter  to  him  ; 
but  morally  it  was  so  strange  to  him  to  find  himself 
on  the.  side  of  doubt  and  dissent,  while  all  his  friends 
were  talking  language  which  was  almost  the  language 
of  a  new  faith ! 

He  had  various  lecturing  engagements  ahead,  con- 
nected with  this  great  debate  which  was  now  surging 
throughout  the  Labour  Avorld  if  London.  He  had 
accepted  them  with  eagerness ;  in  these  weary  night 
hours  he  looked  for.vard  to  them  with  terror,  seeing 
before  him  perpetually  thousands  of  hostile  faces, 
living  in  a  nightmare  of  lost  sympathies  and  broken 
friendships.  Oh,  for  sleep  — for  the  power  to  rest  — 
to  escape  this  corrosion  of  an  ever  active  thought, 
which  settled  and  reconciled  nothing! 

"  The  tragedn  of  life  lies  in  the  conflict  between  the 
creative  will  of  man  and  the  hidden  ivisdom  of  the 
ivorld,  lohich  seems  to  thicart  it:'  These  words,  writ- 
ten by  one  whose  thought  had  penetrated  deep  into 
his  own,  rang  in  his  ears  as  he  sat  brooding  there. 
Not  the  hidden  fate,  or  the  hidden  evil,  but  the  hidden 
msdom.  Could  one  die  and  still  believe  it  ?  Yet  what 
else  was  the  task  of  faith '! 


1    i-f 


CHAPTi:R   VI. 


SI      i 


"  So  I  uudorstand  you  wish  me  to  go  down  at  oiioe  ?" 
said  Louis  Craven.     "  This  is  Friday  —  say  Monday  ?  " 
Wharton  nodded.     He  and  Craven  were  sitting  in 
Marcella's  little  sitting-room.    Their  hostess  and  Edith 
Craven  had  escaped    through  the  door   in  tlie  back 
kitchen  communicating  with  the  Kurds'  tenement,  so 
that  the  two  men  might  be  left  alone  a  while.     The 
interview  between  them  had  gone  smoothly,  and  Louis 
Craven  had  accepted  immediate  employment  on  the 
Labour  Clarion,  as  the  paper's  correspondent  in  the 
Midlands,  with   special   reference   to  the   inmortant 
strike  just  pending.     Wharton,  whose  tendency  in 
matters  of  business  was  always  to  go  rather  further 
than  he  had  meant  to  go,  for  the  sake  generally  of 
making  an  impression  on  the  raan  with  whom  he  was 
dealing,  had  spoken  of  a  two  years'  engagement,  and 
had  ofeered  two  hundred  a  year.     So  far  as  that  went. 
Craven  was  abundantly  satisfied. 

"And  I  understand  from  you,"  he  said,  ^'that  the 
paper  goes  in  for  the  strike,  f  '  you  will  fight  it 
through  ?  " 

He  fixed  his  penetrating  greenis'i  eyes  on  his  com- 
panion. Louis  Craven  wa?.  now  a  tali  man  with  nar- 
row shoulders,  a  fine  oval  head  and  face,  delicate 
features,  and  a  nervous  look  of  short  sight,  producing 
in  appearance  and  manner  a  general  impression  of  thin 
grace  and  of  a  courtesy  which  was  apt  to  pass  unac- 

176 


is 


MAliCELLA. 


n: 


-  -r 


atonee?" 
rioiiday  ?  " 
sitting  in 
and  Edith 
the  back 
lement,  so 
liie.  The 
and  Louis 
lit  on  the 
lit  in  the 
in.'T)oi'tant 
idency  in 
>r  further 
lerally  of 
m  he  was 
nent,  and 
hat  went, 

'that  the 
I  fight  it 

his  cora- 
vvith  nar- 

delicate 
producing 
•n  of  thin 
ass  ujjaf!- 


coiintably  into  sarcasm.  WlKirton  had  never  felt  him- 
self personally  at  ease  with  him,  either  now,  or  in  the 
old  days  of  Ventuvist  debates. 

"Certainly,  we  slu.ll  fight  it  through,"  Wharton 
replied,  with  emphasis  — '^  have  gone  through  the 
secretary's  statement,  which  I  now  hand  over  to  you, 
and  I  never  saw  a  clearer  case.  The  poor  wretches 
have  been  skinned  too  long;  it  is  high  time  the  public 
backed  them  up.  There  are  two  of  the  masters  in  the 
House.  Denny,  I  should  say,  belonged  quite  to  the 
worst  type  of  employer  going." 

He  spoKe  with  light  venom,  buttoning  his  coat  as 
he  spoke  with  the  air  of  the  busy  public  man  who 
must  not  linger  over  an  appointiuont. 

"Oh!  Denny!"  said  Craven,  musing;  "yes,  Denny 
is  a  hard  man,  but  a  just  one  according  to  his  lights. 
There  are  plenty  worse  than  he." 

Wharton  was  disagreeably  reminded  of  the  Ventu- 
rist  habit  of  never  acceptin-  jnything  that  was  said 
quite  as  it  stood  — of  not,  even  in  small  things, 
"swearing  to  the  words"  of  anybody.  He  was  con- 
scious of  the  Quick  passing  feeling  that  his  judgment, 
with  regard  to  Denny,  ought  to  have  been  enough  for 
Craven. 

"  One  thing  more,"  said  Craven  suddenly,  as  Whar- 
ton looked  for  his  stick— "you  see  there  is  talk  of 
arbitration." 

"Oh  yes,  I  know  !"  said  Wharton  impatiently;  "a 
mere  blind.  The  men  have  been  done  by  it  twice 
before.  They  get  some  big-wig  from  the  neighbour- 
hood—not in  the  trade,  indeed,  but  next  door  to  it  — 
and,  of  course,  the  award  goes  against  the  men," 

vol..  II.  — 12 


ifi 


ii:  I  ,', 


MAliCELLA. 


"'  Then  tiie  paper  will  not  back  arbitration 
Craven  took  out  a  note-book. 


9  ?> 


'•No!— The  quarrel   itself 
staff.     The  men  are  asking  1 


i.s  as  plain  as  a  pike- 


or  a  mere 


pittt 


1 


^  ;ance, 
must  get  it  if  they  are  to  live.  It's  like  all  these 
home  industries,  abominably  ground  down.  We  must 
go  for  them  !  1  mean  to  go  tor  them  hot  and  strong. 
Poor  devils  !  did  you  read  the  evidence  in  that  i31ue- 
book  last  year?  Arbitration?  no,  indeed!  let  them 
live  first  I  " 

Craven  looked  up  absently. 

*•  And  1  think/'  he  said,  ''you  gave  me  Mr.  Thorpe's 
address  ?  "     Mr.  Thorpe  was  the^ secretary. 

Again  Wharton  gulped  down  his  annoyance.  If  he 
chose  to  be  expansive,  it  was  not  for  Craven  to  take 
no  notice. 

Craven,  however,  except  in  print,  where  he  could 
be  as  vehement  as  anybody  c'  a,  never  spoke  but  in 
the  driest  way  of  those  workman's  grievances,  Avhich 
in  reality  burnt  at  the  man's  heart.  A  deep  disdain 
for  what  had  always  seemed  to  him  the  cheapest  form 
of  self-advertisement,  held  him  back.  It  was  this 
dryness,  combined  with  an  amazing  disinterestedness, 
which  had  so  far  stood  in  his  way. 

Wharton  repeated  the  address,  following  it  up  by 
some  rather  curt  directions  as  to  the  length  and  date 
of  articles,  to  which  Craven  gave  the  minutest  atten- 
tion. 

"  May  we  come  in  ?  "  said  Marcella's  voice. 
"By  all  means,"  said    Wharton,  with  a  complete 
change  of  tone.     "  Business  is  up  and  I  am  off !  " 
He  took  up  his  hat  as  he  spoke. 


4 


MAIK'ELLA. 


1711 


"Not  ;it  all!  Tea  is  just  coming,  without  which 
no  guest  departs,"  said  Marcella,  taking  as  she  spoke 
a  little  tray  from  the  red-haired  Daisy  who  followed 
her,  and  motioning  to  the  child  to  bring  the  tea-table. 

Wharton  looked  at  her  irresolute.     He  had  spent 
half  a,n  hour  with  her  me-UHe  before  Louis  Craven 
^  ^  arrived,  and  he  was  really  due  at  the  V  .jse.     But 

now  that  she  was  on  the  scene  again,  he  did  not  find 
it  so  easy  to  go  away.  How  astonishingly  beautiful 
she  was,  even  in  this  disguise  !  She  wore  her  nurse's 
dress ;  for  her  second  daily  round  began  at  half-past 
four,  and  her  cloak,  bonnet,  and  bag  were  lying  ready 
on  a  chair  beside  her.  The  dress  was  plain  brown 
holland,  with  collar  and  armlets  of  white  linen ;  but, 
to  Wharton's  eye,  the  dark  Italian  head,  and  the  long 
slenderness  of  form  had  never  shown  more  finely. 
He  hesitated  and  stayed. 

"All  well?"  said  Marcella,  in  a  half  whisper,  as 
she  passed  Louis  Craven  on  her  way  to  get  some  cake. 

He  nodded  and  smiled,  and  she  went  back  to  the 
tea-table  with  an  eye  all  gaiety,  pleased  with  herself 
and  everybody  else. 

The  (piarter  of  an  hour  that  followed  went  agree- 
ably enough.  Wharton  sat  among  the  little  gronj), 
far  too  clever  to  patronise  a  cat,  let  alone  a  Venturist, 
but  none  the  less  master  and  conscious  master  of  the 
occasion,  because  it  suited  him  to  take  the  airs  of 
equality.  Craven  said  little,  but  as  he  lounged  in 
Marcella's  long  cane  chair  with  his  arms  behind  his 
head,  his  serene  and  hazy  air  showed  him  contented ; 
and  Marcella  talked  and  laughed  with  the  animation 


)  ■! 


f    i    < 


thit  belongs  to 


one  whose  plots  for  improving  the 


u 


ffl.'l* 


::| 


l:  I 


wl 

.  i 

II 


MAUCELLA. 

universo  have  at  least  tempoiMfily  sucreedeil.  Or  did 
It  betray,  perhajjs,  a  \V(3iuairs  se(u-el  conseiousnesf;  of 
some  presence  beside  her,  more  troubling  and  mag- 
netic to  her  than  others  '/ 

"  Well  then,  Friday,"  said  Wharton  at  last,  when 
his  time  was  more  than  spent.  "  You  must  be  there 
early,  for  there  will  be  a  crush.  Miss  Craven  comes 
too  ?  Excellent !  1  will  tell  the  doorkeeper  to  look 
out  for  you.     Good-bye  !  —  good-bye  !  " 

And  with  a  hasty  shake  of  the  hand  to  the  Cravens, 
and  one  more  keen  glance,  first  at  Marcella  and  then 
round  the  little  Avorkman's  room  in  which  they  had 
been  sitting,  he  went. 

He  had  hardly  departed  before  Anthony  Craven,  the 
lame  elder  brother,  who  must  have  passed  him  on  the 
stairs,  appeared. 

''Well  — any  news?"  he  said,  as  Marcella  found 
him  a  chair. 

"  All  right ! "  said  Louis,  whose  manner  had  entirely 
changed  since  Wharton  had  left  the  loom.  -  I  am  to 
go  down  on  Monday  to  report  the  Damesley  strike 
that  is  to  be.  A  month's  trial,  and  then  a  salary  — 
two  hundred  a  year.     Oh !  it'll  do." 

He  fidgeted  and  looked  away  from  his  brother,  as 
though  trying  to  hide  his  pleasure.  But  in  spite  of 
him  it  transformed  every  line  of  the  pinched  and  worn 
face. 

"  And  you  and  Anna  will  walk  to  the  Registry  Office 
next  week  ?  "  said  Anthony,  sourly,  as  he  took  his  tea. 

"  It  can't  be  next  week,"  said  Edith  Craven's  quiet 
voice,  interposing.  "  Anna's  got  to  work  out  her  shirt- 
making  time.     She  only  left  the  tailoresses  and  began 


AfATiCELLA. 


181 


And  slip  was  to  have 


fouiul 


this  now  husinoss  Um  davs  a<'o 
a  month  at  each," 
^  MarccUa's  lifted  eyebrows  asked  for  explanations. 
She  had  not  yet  seen  Lonis's  betrothed,  but  she  was 
understood  to  be  a  character,  an.l  a  better  autliority 
on  many  Labour  questions  than  he. 

Louis  explained  that  Anna  was  exploring  various 
sweated  trades  for  the  benetit  of  an  East  End  news- 
paper. She  liad  earned  fourteen  shillings  her  last 
week  at  tailoi-ing,  but  the  feat  had  exhausted  her  so 
nnich  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  insist  on  two  or 
three  days  respite  before  moving  on  to  shirts.  Shirts 
were  now  brisk,  and  the  hours  appalliugly  long  in  this 
heat. 

"It  was  on  shirts  they  made  aeqiuiintanoe,"  said 
Edith  pensively.     ^'  Louis  was  lodging  on  the  second 
floor,  she  in  the  third  floor  back,  and  they  used  to 
pass  on  the  stairs.     One  day  she  heard  him  imploring 
the  little  slavey  to  put  some  buttons  on  his  shirts. 
The  slavey  tossed  her  head,  and  said  she'd  see  about 
It.     When   he'd   gone   out,   Anna   came   downstairs, 
calmly  demanded  his  shirts,  and,  having  the  slavey 
under  her  thumb,  got  them,  walked  oft"  with  them, 
and  mended  them  all.     When  Louis  came  home  he 
discovered  a  neat  heap   reposing  on  his   table.     Of 
course  he  wept  —  whatever  he   may  say.        vt  next 
morning  Miss  Anna  found  her  shoes  outside  hor  door, 
blacked  as  they  had  never  been  blacked  before,  with 
a  note  inside   one  of  them.     Affecting!  wasn't   it? 
Thenceforward,  as   long   as   they  remained  in  those 
lodgnigs,  Anna  mended  and  Louis  blacked.    Naturally, 
Anthony  and  1  drew  our  conclusions." 


1  '    ' . 


182 


MAUCEhLA. 


'  i 


!' 


4 


Mairella  lauf^Iicd. 

'<  Von  iniist  hrinjr  hor  to  soo  nip,*'  she  said  to  Louis. 

"  I  will,"  said  Louis,  with  sonic  i)or|)h'xity  ;  "if  I 
Pan  got  hold  of  her.  Hut  wlicn  she  isn't  stitching 
she's  writing,  or  trving  to  set  up  Unions.  She  does 
the  work  of  six.  She'll  earn  nearly  as  much  as  I  do 
when  we're  married.     Oh  I  we  shall  swim!" 

Antliony  surveyed  his  radiant  aspect— so  unlike 
the  gentle  or  satirical  detachment  which  inach'  his 
ordinary  manner — with  a  darkening  eye,  .  s  though 
annoyed  by  his  effusion. 

"Two  Imndred  a  year?"  he  said  slowly;  "about 
wliat  Mr.  Harry  Wharton  spends  on  his  clothes,  I 
shouhl  think.  The  Labour  men  tell  me  he  is  superb 
in  tiiat  line.  And  for  the  same  sum  that  he  spends  on 
his  clothes,  he  is  able  to  buy  yon,  Louis,  body  and 
soul,  and  you  seem  inclined  to  be  grateful." 

" Never  mind,"  said  Louis  recklessly.  "He  didn't 
buy  some  one  else  —  and  I  am  grateful  !  " 

"  No  ;  by  Heaven,  you  shan't  be  !  "  said  Anthony, 
with  a  fierce  change  of  tone.  "  You  the  dependent  of 
that  charlatan  !  I  don't  know  how  I'm  to  put  up 
with  it.  Ton  know  very  well  what  1  think  of  him, 
and  of  your  becoming  dependent  on  him." 

Marcella  gave  an  angry  start.     Louis  protested. 

"Nonsense!"  said  Anthony  doggedly  ;  "you'll  have 
to  bear  it  from  me,  l  tell  you  —  unless  you  muzzle 
me  too  with  an  Anna." 

"But  I  don't  see  why  /should  bear  it,"  said  Mar- 
eella,  turning  upon  him.  "  1  think  you  know  that  I 
owe  Mr.  Wharton  a  debt.     Please  remember  it  I  " 

Anthony  looked  at  her  an  instant  in  silence.     A 


#1  » 


didn't 


A 


MAlWRLhA. 


188 


question  orossod  liis  injiid  concenuiiK  I'f'i-.     TIumi  h 
iiijide  hor  a  little  cIuniHy  how, 


I  am  (huiil),"  li(^  said.     "My  nianneri 


ceive,  are  wiuit  they  always  were 


!,  you  ijpi'. 


What  do  you  mean  hy  such 


celhi,  fumin''.     "  H 


a  remark,"  cried  Mar- 


o 


position  he  lias  in  so  short  a  tii 


w  can  a  man  who  has  reached  the 


lie 


in  so  many  dif- 


ferent worlds —  be  dis).osed   „f    l,y  ,,illi„tr    him    an 
s,'ly  name  '/     It  is  more  than 


unjust—  it  is  ahsi  rd 


u 

Besides,  what  can  you  know  of  Jdui  ?  "' 

"You  forget,"  said  Anthony,  as  he  calmly  heljx-d 
himself  to  more  bread  and  butter,  '•  tiiat  it  is  some 
three  years  sinee  Master  Harry  Wharton  joined  the 
Venturists  and  began  to  be  heard  of  at  all.  I  watched 
his  beginnings,  and  if  1  didn't  know  him  well,  my 
friends  and  Louis's  did.  And  most  of  them  — as  he 
knows!— have  pretty  strong  opinions  by  now  about 
the  man." 

"Come,  come,  Anthony!"  said  Louis,  "nobody  ex- 
pects a  man  of  that  type  to  be  the  i)ure-eved  patriot. 
But  neither  you  nor  I  can  deny  that  he  has  done  some 
good  service.  Am  I  asked  to  take  him  to  my  bosom  ? 
Not  at  all !  He  proposes  a  job  to  me,  and  offers  to 
pay  me.  I  like  the  job,  and  mean  to  use  him  and  his 
paper,  both  to  earn  some  money  that  I  want,  and  do  a 
bit  of  decent  work." 

"FoH- use   Harry    Wharton!"  said   the   crippl,. 
with  a  sarcasm  tr : >  brought  the  colour  to  Louis's  thin 
cheek  and  made   Warcella  angrier   than    before.     She 
saw  nothing  in  his  attack  on  Wharton,  except   per- 
sonal prejudice  and  ill-will.     It  was  natural  enough 
that  a  man  ui  Anthony  Craven's  type  — poor,  unstic- 


!  ■  W 


H     ■  \ 


i:^ii    i 


184 


MAUCKILA. 


It 


oossfiil,   and   oml.ithMv.l  — should   dislike   a  popular 
victorious  ])('rsoiiality. 

''Suj.posH  we  leave  Mr.  Wharton  alone?"  she  said 
with  emphasis,  and  Anthony,  iuakin<r  her  a  little  proud 
gesture  of  suhniissii.n,  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair, 
and  was  silent. 

It  had  soon  become  evident  to  Marcella,  u;  ■)n  the 
renewal   of   her    I'riiMidshij)    with    the   Cravens,   that 
Anthony's  temper  towards  all  men,  especially  towards 
social  reformers  and  i)oliticians,  had  developed  into  a 
mere  impotent  bitterness.    While  Louis  had  renounced 
his  art,  and  devoted  himself   to  journalism,    unpaid 
pul)lic  work  and  starvation,  that  lie  might  so  throw 
himself  the  more  directly  into  the  Socialist   battle, 
Anthony  had  renuiined  an  artist,  mainly  employed  as 
before  in  decorative  design.     Yet  he  was  i>i'obably  the 
more  fierce  Venturist  and  anticapitalist  of  the  two. 
Only  what  with  Louis  was  an  intoxication  of  hope,  was 
on  the  whole  with  Anthony  a  counsel  of  desi)air.     He 
loathed  wealth  more  passionately  than  ever;  but  he 
believed  less  in  the  working  man,  less  in  his  kind. 
Kich  men  must  cease  to  exist ;  but  the  world  on  any 
terms  would  probably  remain  a  sorry  spot. 

In  the  few  talks  that  he  had  had  with  IMarcella 
since  she  left  the  hospital,  she  had  allowed  him  to 
gather  more  or  less  elearly  — though  with  hardly  a 
mention  of  Aldous  Raeburn's  name  —  what  had  hap- 
pened to  her  at  Mellor.  A  nthony  Craven  thought  out 
the  story  for  himself,  finding  it  a  fit  food  for  a  caustic 
temper.  Poor  devil  _  the  lover  !  To  fall  a  victim  to 
enthusiasms  so  raw,  so  unprofitable  from  any  point  of 
view,  was  hard.     And  as  to  this  move  to  London,  lie 


ytAHCKLlA. 


185 


; 


thouj^'lit  he  fomsaw  llic  ccitini  end  of  it.  At  any  rate 
he  believed  in  her  no  more  than  before.  Hut  lier 
beauty  was  more  marked  than  ever,  and  wouhl,  of 
course,  be  the  dominant  tiutor  in  lier  fate.  He  was 
tliankfiil,  at  any  rate,  that  Louis  in  this  two  years' 
interval  had  finally  transferred  liis  heart  elsewhere. 

After  wateliin^'  his  tiiree  eompanions  for  a  while, 
he  broke  in  upon  their  eliat  with  an  abrupt  — 

"What  /.s  this  job,  Louis?" 

"  I  told  you.  I  am  to  investi.^'atf,  report,  and  baek 
up  the  Damesley  strike,  or  rather  the  strike  that  begins 
at  I)  iniesley  next  week." 

"No  eluinee!"  said  Antliony  shortly,  ''the  masters 
are  too  strong.     I  hud  a  talk  with  Denny  yes<-erday." 

The  Denny  he  meant,  however,  was  not  Wharton's 
eolleague  in  the  House,  but  his  son  —  a  young  man 
Avho,  beginning  life  as  the  heir  of  one  of  tlie  most  stiff- 
baeked  and  autocratic  of  ea])italists,  had  developed 
socialist  opiiii(ms,  renounced  his  father's  allowance, 
and  was  now  a  nuMuber  of  the  "  intellectual  proletariat," 
as  they  have  been  called,  the  free-lances  of  the  Collec- 
tivist  movement.  He  had  lately  joiru'd  the  Venturists. 
Anthony  had  taken  a  fancy  to  him.  Louis  as  yet 
knew  little  or  nothing  of  him. 

"Ah,  well!"  he  said,  in  reply  to  his  brother,  "I 
don't  know.  T  think  the  Clarion  can  do  something. 
The  press  grows  more  and  more  powerful  in  these 
things." 

And  he  repeated  some  of  the  statements  that  Whar- 
ton had  made— that  Wharton  always  did  make,  in 
talking  of  the  C/a>w'ou  — as  to  its  growth  nnder  his 
hands,  and  increasing  influence  in  Labour  disputes. 


m 


18G 


MATWELLA. 


Ml) 


'•Bunkum!"  intermi)te(l  Anthony  drily;  "p„re 
bunkum !  My  own  belief  is  that  the  Clarion  is  a 
rotten  property,  and  that  he  knows  it ! " 

At  this  both  Marcella  and  Louis  laughed  out.  Ex- 
travagance after  a  certain  point  becomes  amusing. 
They  dropped  their  vexation,  and  Anthony  for  the  next 
ten  minutes  had  to  submit  to  the  part  of  the  fractious 
person  whom  one  humours  but  does  not  argue  with 
He  accepted  the  part,  saying  little,  his  eager,  feverish 
eyes,  full  of  hostility,  glancing  from  one  to  the  other 

However,  at  the  end,  Marcella  bade  him  a  perfectly 
friendly  farewell.  It  was  always  in  her  mind  that 
Anthony  (h-aven  was  lame  and  solitary,  and  her  pity 
no  less  than  her  respect  for  him  had  long  since  yielded 
him  the  right  to  be  rude. 

''How  are  you  getting  on?"  he  said  to  her  abruptly 
as  he  dropped  her  hand. 

"Oh,  very  well !  my  superintendent  leaves  me  almost 
alone  now,  which  is  a  compliment.  There  is  a  parish 
doctor  who  calls  me  'my  good  woman,'  and  a  sanitary 
inspector  who  tells  me  to  go  to  him  whenever  I  wan't 
advice.     Those  are  my  chief  grievances,  I  think." 

"And  you  are  as  much  in  love  with  the  poor  as 
ever';'"  ^ 

She  stiffened  at  the  note  of  sarcasm,  and  a  retaliatory 
impulse  made  her  say  :  — 

''  I  see  a  great  deal  more  happiness  than  I  expocted." 
Pie  laughed. 

"How  like  a  woman!  A  few  ill-housed  villa-ers 
made  you  a  democrat.  A  few  well-paid  London  arti- 
sans will  carry  you  safely  bac^k  to  your  class.  Your 
people  were  wise  to  let  you  take  this  work."' 


I 


i 
i 


MARC  ELL  A. 


187 


y;    "pure 
arion  is  a 

out.     Ex- 
amusing. 
)r  the  next 
"■  fractious 
•gue  with. 
f,  feverish 
;he  otiier. 
perfectly 
nind  that 
her  pity 
ce  yielded 

abruptly 

ne  almost 
I  a  parish 
.  sanitary 
r  I  want 
nk." 
poor  [IS 

taliator}- 

:p?cted." 

villagers 
Ion  arti- 
.     Your 


''Do  you  suppose  I  nurse  none  but  well-paid  arti- 
sans ?  "  she  asked  hiui,  mocking.  '•'  And  I  didn't  say 
'money'  or  'comfort,'  did  I?  but  'happiness.'  As 
for  my  'democracy,'  you  are  not  perhaps  the  best 
judge." 

She  stood  resting  both  hands  on  a  little  table  behind 
her,  in  an  attitude  touched  with  the  wild  freedom 
which  best  became  lier,  a  gleam  of  storm  in  her  great 
eyes. 

"Why  are  you  still  a  Venturist?"  he  asked  her 
abruptly. 

"Because  I  have  every  right  to  be!  I  joined  a 
society,  pledged  to  work  'for  a  better  future.'  Ac- 
cording to  ray  lights,  I  do  Avhat  poor  work  1  can  in 
that  spirit." 

"  You  are  not  a  Soci-  '"it.  Half  the  things  you  say, 
or  imply,  show  it.     Ami  we  are  Socialists." 

She  hesitated,  looking  at  him  steadily. 

"  Xo !  —  so  far  as  Socialism  means  a  political  system 
—  the  trampling  out  of  private  enterprise  and  compe- 
tition, and  all  the  rest  of  it  — I  find  myself  slipping 
away  from  it  more  and  more.  No !  —  as  I  go  about 
among  these  wage-earners,  the  emphasis  —  do  what  I 
will  —  comes  to  lie  less  and  less  on  possession  —  more 
and  more  on  character.  I  go  to  two  tenements  in  the 
same  building.  One  is  Hell  —  the  other  Heaven. 
Why  ?  Both  belong  to  well-paid  artisans  with  equal 
opportunities.  Botli,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  might  have 
a  decent  and  pleasant  life  of  it.  But  one  is  a  man  — 
the  other,  with  all  his  belongings,  will  soon  be  a  vaga- 
bond. That  is  not  all,  1  know  —  oh  !  don't  trouble  to 
tell  me  so  !  —  but  it  is  more  than  1  thought.     No  !  — 


i 


IP 


188 


MAliCELLA. 


Mi   :n 


U 
fcii 


>> 


my  sympathies  in  this  district  wliere  I  work  are  not 
so  much  with  the  Socialists  that  I  know  here  -  savin- 
your  presence!  but -with  the  people,  for  instance^ 
that  slave  at  Charity  Organisation!  and  get  all  the 
abuse  from  all  sides." 
Anthony  laughed  scornfully. 

"It  is  always  the  way  with  a  woman,"  he  said- 
"  she  invariably  prefers  tlie  tinkers  to  the  reformers  " 
"  And  as  to  your  Socialism,"  she  went  on,  unheeding 
the  thought  of  many  days  finding  defiant  expression' 
—  "It  seems  to  me  like  all  other  interesting  and  im- 
portant  things  —  destined   to   help   something   else' 
Christianity  begins   with   the   poor   and  division  of 
goods  — It  becomes  the  great  bulwark  of  property  and 
the  feudal  state.     The   Crusades  -  thev  set  out  to 
recover  the  tomb  of  the  Lord !_  what  \hey  did  was 
to  increase  trade  and  knowledge.     And  so  with  So- 
cialism.    It  talks  of  a  new  order  -  what  it  icill  do  is 
to  help  to  make  the  old  sound !  " 
Anthony  clapped  her  ironically. 
"Excellent!      AVhen    the    Liberty    and    Property 
Defence  people  have  got  hold   of  you  -  ask  me  to 
come  and  hear !  " 

Meanwhile,  Louis  stood  behind,  with  his  hands  on 
his  sides,  a  smile  in  his  blinking  eyes.  He  really  had 
a  contempt  for  what  a  handsome  half-taught  -irl  of 
twenty-three  might  think.  Anthony  only  pretended 
or  desired  to  have  it. 

Nevertheless,  Louis  said  good-bye  to  his  hostess  with 
real,  and,  for  him,  rare  effusion.     Two  years  before,  for 
the  space  of  some  months,  he  had  been  in  love  with  her 
That  she  had  never  responded  with  anything  warmer 


5. /I 


MARC  ELL  A, 


189 


C  1 '  i 


than  likinr'  and  comradeship  he  knew;  and  his 
Anna  iy:\  possessed  him  wholly.  But  there  was 
a  deep  an,:  gentle  chivalry  at  the  bottom  of  all  his 
stern  social  faiths ;  and  the  woman  towards  whom 
he  had  once  felt  as  he  had  towards  Marcella  Boyce 
could  never  lose  the  glamour  lent  her  by  that  moment 
of  passionate  youth.  And  now,  so  kindly,  so  eagerly  \ 
—  she  had  given  him  his  Anna. 

When  they  were  all  gone  Marcella  threw  herself  into 
her  chair  a  moment  to  think.  Her  wrath  with  An- 
thony was  soon  dismissed.  But  Louis's  thanks  had 
tilled  her  with  delicious  pleasure.  Her  cheek,  her  eye 
had  a  child's  brightness.  The  old  passion  for  ruling 
and  influencing  was  all  alive  and  happy. 

"  I  will  see  it  is  all  right,"  she  was  saying  to  her- 
self.     "  I  will  look  after  them." 

What  she  meant  was,  "I  will  see  that  Mr.  Wharton 
looks  after  them ! "  and  through  the  link  of  thought, 
memory  flew  quickly  back  to  that  tete-h-Ute  with  him 
which  had  preceded  the  Cravens'  arrival. 

How  changed  he  was,  yet  how  much  the  same !  He 
had  not  sat  beside  her  for  ten  minutes  before  each 
was  once  more  vividly,  specially  conscious  of  the  other. 
She  felt  in  him  the  old  life  and  daring,  the  old  im- 
perious claim  to  confidence,  to  intimacy  —  on  the  other 
l^and  a  new  atmosphere,  a  new  gravity,  which  sug- 
gested growing  responsibilities,  the  difficulties  of 
power,  a  great  position  — everything  fitted  to  touch 
such  an  imagination  as  Marcella's,  which,  whatever  its 
faults,  was  noble,  both  in  quality  and  range.  The  brow 
beneath  the  bright  chestiiut  curls  had  gained  lines  that 
pleased  her  —  lines  that  a  woman  marks,  because  she 
thinks  they  mean  experience  and  mastery. 


190 


MARCELLA. 


(||< 


ili* 


ii 


A  together,  to  have  met  him  again  was  pleasure ;  to 
hink  o±  him  was  pleasure ;  to  look  forward  to  hearing 
him  speak  in  Parliament  Avas  pleasure;  so  too  was  Ms 
new  connection  with  lier  old  friends.     And  a  pleasure 
which  took  nothing  from  self-respect ;  which  was  open, 
honourable,  eager.     As  for  that  ugly  folly  of  the  past 
she  frowned  at  the  thought  of  it,  only  to  thrust  the 
remembrance   passionately   away.      That   he    should 
remember  or  allude  to  it,  would  put  an  end  to  friend- 
ship     Otherwise  friends  they  would  and  should  be; 
and  the  personal  interest  in  his  public  career  should 
litt  her  out  of  the  cramping  influences  that  flow  from 
the   perpetual  commerce   of    poverty   and    suffering. 
AV  hy  not  .>     Such  equal  friendships  between  men  and 
women  grow  more  possible  every  day.     While,  as  for 
Ha  lin  s  distrust,  and  Anthony  Craven's  jealous  hos- 
tility, why  should  a  third  person  be  bound  by  either 
of  them  ?    Could  any  one  suppose  that  such  a  tempera- 
nient  as  Wharton's  would  be  congenial  to  Hallin  or  to 
Craven-or  —  to  yet  another  person,  of  whom  she  did 
not  want  to  think  ?     Besides,  who  wished  to  make  a 
liero  of  him  ?     It  was  the  very  complexity  and  puzzle 
of  the  character  that  made  its  force. 

So  with  a  reddened  cheek,  she  lost  herself  a  few 
minutes  in  this  pleasant  sense  of  a  new  wealth  in  life  • 
and  was  only  roused  from  the  dreamy  running  to  and 
fro  of  thought  by  the  appearance  of  Minta,  who  came 
to  clear  away  the  tea. 

"  Why,  it  is  close  on  the  half-hour ! "  cried  Marcella, 
springing  up.     "  Where  are  my  things  ?  " 

yhe  looked  down  the  notes  of  her  cases,  satisfied 


)leasure;  to 

I  to  liearing 
too  was  1ms 

a  pleasure 
h  was  opeu, 
at"  the  past, 
thrust  the 
he    slioukl 

to  frieud- 
shoukl  be; 
eer  shoukl 

flow  from 

suffering. 

II  men  and 
lile,  as  for 
alous  hos- 

by  either 
I  tempera- 
alliu  or  to 
m  she  did 
;o  make  a 
ud  puzzle 


MARCELLA. 


191 


herself  that  her  bag  contained  all  she  wanted,  and 
then  hastily  tied  on  her  bonnet  and  cloak. 

Suddenly  — the  room  was  empty,  for  Minta  had 
just  gone  away  with  the  tea  — by  a  kind  of  subtle 
reaction,  the  face  iu  that  photograph  on  Hallin's  table 
flashed  into  her  mind  — its  look  -  the  grizzled  hair 
^Vlth  an  uncontrollable  pang  of  pain  she  dropped  her 
hands  from  the  fastenings  of  her  cloak,  and  wruno- 
them  together  in  front  of  her -a  dumb  gesture  of 
contrition  and  of  grief. 

She!  — she  talk  of  social  reform  and  "character," 
she  give  her  opinion,  as  of  right,  on  points  of  speculL 
tion  and  of  ethics,  she,  whose  main  achievement  so 
far  had  been  to  make  a  good  man  suffer!  Something 
belittling  and  withering  swept  over  all  her  estimate 
of  herself,  all  her  pleasant  self-conceit.  Quietly,  with 
downcast  eyes,  she  went  her  way. 


ill 


3lf  a  few 
;h  in  life ; 
ig  to  and 
^\\o  came 


I  n 


Vlarcella, 


satisti*^(] 


m 


CHAPTEK   VII. 

Her  first  case  was  in  IJrou-n's  Buildings  itself  — a, 
woman  suffering  /roni  bronchitis  and  heart  complaint, 
and  tormented  besides  by  an  ulcerated  foot  which' 
Marcella  had  now  dressed  daily  for  some  weeks.  She 
lived  on  the  top  floor  of  one  of  the  easterly  blocks, 
with  two  daughters  and  a  son  of  eighteen. 

When  Marcella  entered  the  little  room  it  was  as 
usual  spotlessly  clean  and  smelt  of  flowers.     The  win- 
dows were  open,  and  a  young  woman  was  busy  shirt- 
ironing  on  a  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room.     Both  she 
and  her  mother  looked  up  with  smiles  as  Marcella 
entered.     Then  they  introduced  her  with  some  cere- 
mony to  a  ''lady,"  who  was  sitting  beside  the  patient, 
a  long-faced  melancholy  woman  employed  at  the  mo- 
ment in  nuirking  linen  handkerchiefs,  which  she  did 
with  extraordinary  fineness  and  delicacy.     The  patient 
and  her  daughter  spoke  of  Marcella  to  their  friend  as 
"  the  young  person,"  but  all  with  a  natural  courtesy 
and  charm  that  could  not  have  been  surpassed. 

Marcella  knelt  to  undo  the  wrappings  of  the  foot. 
The  woman,  a  pale  transparent  creature,  Avinced  pain- 
fully as  the  dressing  was  drawn  off;  but  between  each 
half  stifled  moan  of  pain  she  said  something  eager  ami 
grateful  to  her  nurse.  "  I  never  knew  any  one,  Nurse, 
do  it  as  gentle  as  you—  "  or  —  "  T  do  take  it  kind  of 


^*?-fS 


MARCELLA. 


193 


you,  Nursp,  to  rlo  it  so  slow  -oh  !  thove  were  a  young 
person  before  you-"  or  -hasn't  she  K(;t  nice  hands, 
Mrs.  Burton  ?  they  chjn't  never  seem  to  jar  yer." 

"Poor  foot!  but  1  tliink  it  is  looking  better,"  said 
Marc(!lla,  getting  up  at  Last  from  her  work,  when  all 
was  clean  and  comfortable  and  she  had  replaced  the 
foot  on  the  upturned  wooden  box  that  supported  it  — 
for  its  owner  was  not  in  bed,  but  sitting  propped  up 
ni  an  old  armchair.  "  And  how  is  your  cough,  Mrs. 
Jervis  ?  " 

"  Oh!  it's  very  bad,  nights,"  said  Mrs.  Jervis,  mildly 
-''disturbs  Emily  dreadful.  But  I  always  pray  every 
night,  when  she  lifts  me  into  bed,  as  1  may  be  took 
before  the  morning,  an'  God  uU  do  it  soon." 

"Mother!"  cried  Emily,  pausing  in   her   ironing 
"you  know  you  oughtn't  to  say  them  things." 

Mrs.  Jervis  looked  at  her  with  a  sly  cheerfulness 
Her  emaciated  face  was  paler  than  usual  because  of 
the  pain  of  the  dressing,  but  from  the  frail  form  there 
breathed  an  indomitable  air  of  Iffe,  a  gay  courage  in- 
deeci  n^hich  had  already  struck  Marcella  with  wonder. 

"  Well,  yer  not  to  take  'em  to  heart,  Em'ly.     It  ull 
be  when  it  will  be -fur  the  Lord  likes  us  to  pray 
but  He'll  take  his  own  time  — an'  she's  got  troubles 
enough  of  her  own,  Nurse.     D'yer  see  as  she's  leff  off 
ner  ring  ?  " 

Marcella  looked  at  Emily's  left  hand,  while  the  girl 
Hushed  all  over,  and  ironed  with  a  more  fiery  energv 
than  before. 

'-rye  'eerd  such  things  of  'im,  Xurse,  this  la.;t  two 
days,  she  said  with  low  vehemence  — ''as  I'm  never 
gom'  to  wear  it  again.     It  'ud  burn  me  I " 

voi„  II.  _  13 


,    .  !' 


1 1  . 

■'K  b 


m 


■11 


IHjf 

tJI 

^^H 

) 

i 

'^'^1 

9 

; 

1 1  i 

ti        'i        4i 

1  .h    |j 

i 

Hil 

1 
1 

i 
i 

V     ' 


104 


MAliCKLLA. 


Emily  was  past   twenty.     Some   eighteen   months 
betore  this  date  she  had  married  a  youn-  painter. 
After  nearly  a  year  of  incredible  misery  her  baby  was 
born.      It  died,  and  she  very  nearly  died  also,  owing 
to  the  brutal  ill-treatment  of  her  husband.     As  soon 
as  she  could  get  on  her  leet  again,  sh(>  totter.'d  home 
to  her  widowed  mother,  broken  for  the  time  in  mind 
and  body,  and  filled  with  loathing  of  her  tyrant.     H(^ 
made  no  effort  to  recover  her,  and  her  family  set  to 
work  to  mend  if  they  could  what  he  had  done.     The 
younger  sister  of  fourteen  was  earning  seven  shillings 
a  week  at  paper-bag  making;  the  brother,  a  lad  of 
eighteen,  had  been  apprenticed  by  his  mother,  at  the 
cost  of  heroic  efforts  some  six  years  before,  to  the 
leather-currying  trade,  in  a  highly  skilled  branch  of 
It,  and  was  now  taking  sixteen  shillings  a  week  with 
the  prospect  of  far  better  things  in  the  future.     He 
at  once  put  aside  from  his  earnings  enough  to  teach 
Emily    *'the    shirt-ironing,"    denying    himself   every 
indulgence  till  her  training  was  over. 

Then  they  had  their  reward.  Emily's  colour  and 
spirits  came  back ;  her  earnings  made  all  the  differ- 
ence to  the  family  between  penury  and  ease ;  while 
she  and  her  little  sister  kept  the  three  tiny  rooms  in 
which  they  lived,  and  waited  on  their  invalid  mother, 
with  exquisite  cleanliness  and  care. 

Marcella  stood  by  the  ironing-table  a  moment  after 
the  girl's  speech. 

"Poor  Emily!"  she  said  softly,  laying  her  hand 
on  the  ringless  one  that  held  down  the  shirt  on  the 
board. 

Emily  looked  up  at  her  in  silence.     But  the  girl's 


■*"»SS.iil*.i,  J 


MARCEL  LA. 


195 


1  months 
;  painter, 
baby  was 
so,  owing 

As  soon 
'0(1  homn 

in  mind 
ant.     H(i 
ly  set  to 
le.     The 
shillings 
a  lad  of 
ir,  at  the 
3,  to  the 
ranch  of 
3ek  with 
ire.     He 
to  teach 
f   every 

our  and 
e  differ- 
;  while 
Doms  in 
mother, 

it  after 

sr  hand 
on  the 


B  girl'.s 


eyes  glowed  with  things  nnsaid  and  inoxpressil.lo - 
tiM'  "et(>n.al  passion,  ..t.-rnal  pain,"  whieh  in  half  the 
human  vav.i'  \v,\.\v.  no  voice. 

"He  was  a  very  rough  man  was  Km'ly's  husband," 
said  Mrs.  Jcrvis,  in  h(!r  delicate  thoug'htful  voice  — 
"a  very  uncultivated  man." 

Marcella  turned  round  to  her,  startled  and  amused 
by  the  adjective.  I'.ut  the  other  two  listeners  t(,ok 
It  quit(,  .pnetly.  It  seemed  to  them  apparently  to 
exjiress  what  had  to  be  said. 

"It's  a  sad  thing  is  want  of  edication,"  Mrs.  Jervis 
went  on  in  the  same  tone.  ''Xow  there's  that  lady 
there  "-with  a  little  courtly  wave  of  her  hand 
towards  Mrs.  Burton --she  can't  read  yer  know 
Nurse,  and  I'm  that  sorry  for  her!  Lut  I've  been 
reading  to  her,  an'  Emily -jnst  while  my  cough's 
quiet  — one  of  my  ole  tracks." 

She  held  up  a  little  paper-covered  tract  worn  with 
use.  It  was  called  -  A  Pennorth  of  Grace,  or  a  Pound 
of  Works  ?"  Marcella  looked  at  it  in  respectful  silence 
as  she  put  on  her  cloak.  Such  things  were  not  in  her 
line. 

"I  do  love  a  track!"  said  Mrs.  Jervis,  pensively. 

Ihatswhy  I  don't  like  these  buildings  so  well  as 

them  others,  Em'ly.     Here  you  never  get  no  tracks"; 

-•u.d  there,  what  with  one  person  and  another,  there 

was  a  new  one  most  weeks.    But "  -  her  voice  droi>ped 

and  she  looked  timidly  first  at  her  friend,  and  then  at 

Marcella --she  isn't  a  Christian,   Xurse.     Isn't  it 
sad  ?  " 

Mrs.  Burton,  a  woman  of  a  rich  mahoganv  com- 
plexion, with  a  black  "front,"  and  a  mouth"  which 


<i  'f 


19H 


MARCRLLA. 


turned  d.nvn  decisively  at  the  corners,  looked  up  from 
her  embroidery  with  severe  compoHure. 

"No,  Nurse,  I'm  not  a  Cliristian,"  she  said  in  the 
tone  of  one  stating  a  disagreeable  fact  for  which  they 
are  noways  responsible.  ''My  brother  is  — and  my 
sisters  — real  good  Christian  people.  On(^  of  my  sis- 
ters married  a  gentleman  up  in  Wales.  She  'as  two 
servants,  an'  fam'ly  prayers  reg'lar.  lint  I've  nevrr 
felt  no  '  call,'  and  I  tell  'em  [  can't  purtend.  An'  Mrs. 
Jervis  here,  she  don't  seem  to  make  me  see  it  no  dif^ 
ferent." 

She  held  her  head  evevt,  however,  as  though  tlu; 
unusually  high  sense  of  probity  involved,  was,  after 
all,  some  consolation.  Mrs.  Jervis  looked  at  her  with 
pathetic  eyes.  But  Emily  coloured  hotly.  Emily 
was  a  churchwoman. 

'^  Of  course  you're  a  (niristian,  Mrs.  Burton,"  she 
said  indignantly.  "What  she  means.  Nurse,  is  she 
isn't  a  'member'  of  any  chapel,  I'^e  mother.  But 
she's  been  baptised  and  confirmed,  for  I  asked  her. 
And  of  course  she's  a  Christian." 

"  Em'ly  ! "  said  Mrs.  Jervis,  with  energy. 
Emily  looked  round  trembling.  The  delicate  in- 
valid was  sitting  bolt  upright,  her  eyes  sparkling,  a 
si)ot  of  red  on  either  hollow  cheek.  The  glances  of 
the  two  women  crossed;  there  seemed  to  be  a  mute 
struggle  between  them.  Then  Emily  laid  down  her 
iron,  stepped  quickly  across  to  her  mother,  and  kneel- 
ing beside  her,  threw  her  arms  around  her. 

"Have  it  your  own  way,  mother,"  she  said,  while 
her  hp  quivered ;  ''  I  wasn't  a-goin'  to  cross  you." 
Mrs.   Jervis  laid    her   waxen   cheek    against    lier 


MAHCKLLA. 


M 


197 


A  ugh  or'.s  tanglo  of  |,r„,v„  hair  with  a  faint  s,„il. 
h.l„  h,..  ,„.„.thi„«,  wl,id,  ha,l  «row„  ,,„iok  an,l  ,„"  I' 
."K,  K.a,h,ally  s„l,,s„l,„l.  E,„i|j.  |o„k,„|  ,,t  jja/cell, 
w>  i,  a  te,.n,i..,l  sHf.,.„,„.oa,.h.  They  all  k'„e,v  that  a"; 
su.l.len  exctement  nnght  kill  „ut  the  .st,u«Kli,„.  Ha.ne 

'•  V„u  oujjht  t„  ,v.,t  a  little,  M,.s.  ,le,-vi,,"  .said  Mar- 
™Ma  with  gentle  authority.  ■•  V,„.  kuow  the  dresVinl 
."U»t  tu-e  y„u,  though  you  won't  eonfess  it.  L  ^ 
pu  you  con.fortable.  The,,. ;  aren't  the  pillow,  easier 
so.'  Kow  rest -and  good-bye." 
J^  Mrs.   Jervis  held  her,   while   Emily  slipped 

"I  shall  rest  soon,"  she  said  significantly.    "  An'  it 

thing  t'lnt"™  "'"""  *''"'^  '"''^  """•     I^'  «-0"  V 
th  ng  that  ever  comes  atween  us.     .She  thinks  o'  form's 

an  ceremonies ;  an'  /  think  o'  (jmce  " 

Her  old  woman's  eyes,  so  dear  and  vivid  under  the 
blanched  brow,  searched  Marcella's  f.«e  for  syn.pathy 
But  Marcella  stood,  shy  and  wondering  in  the  presence 
of  words  .and  emotions  she  understood  so  lift  e  So 
"an-owa  hfe,  in  these  poor  rooms,  under  thesecrL 
geond,  ,ons  of  disease! -and  all  this  preoecu^a- 
t.o.    w  th,  th,s  pass.on  over,  the  things  not  of  the 

"der;:, !"■'""'  "''"""  "^^'•'  ■''''  "'  '"^  ^1""*- 

On  coming  out  from  Brown's  Buildings,  she  turned 

t:Z  '^'""*-">V°«"*  ^  Btreet  !ome  ditZe 
rom  her  own  ,mmed,.ate  neighbourhood,  where  she 
■.ad  a  v,s,t  to  pay  which  filled  her  with  rjpnlsio,!  a! 
an  unusua,  sense  of  helplessness.     A  clergyman  who 


'  f      , 


198 


MAIICKLLA. 


often  availed  liimself  of  the  help  of  tlie  St  Mart 
nmscs  had  asked  the  sii|)('riiiten(U'iit  to  undertake 
hiiii  "a  djffioult  ease."     VVouhl  one  of  thei 


in  s 
fof 

go 

nsibly  for  the 


r  nurses 


le 


rcKuhiily  to  visit  a  certain  house,  oste 
s;ike  of  a  litth   hoy  of  Hve  just  eoiue  haek  from  tl 
hospital,    who   recpiired    eare   at   home   for  a  whil., 
rralbi  fo.r  the  sake  of  his  .young   mother,    who    had 
suddenly  developed  ilrinking  habits  and 
vovA  to  ruin  ? 
Marcella  hapixuied  to  be 


was  on   the 


th 


rcella  nai)p(uie(i  ro  ne   in  tlie   ottlce   wiien   tUe 
letter  arrived.      She  sonniwhat  unwillingly  accepted 
the  task,  ai.d  she  liad    now  paid  two  or  three  visits, 
always  dressing  the  child's  sore  leg,  and  ende.ivouriug 
to  make  accpiaintance  with  the  mother.    But  m  this  last 
attempt  she  had  not  had  much  success.     Mrs.  Vincent 
was  young  and  ])retty,  with  a  flighty,  restless  manner. 
She  was  always  ]M>rfectly  civil  to  Marcella,  :.nd  grate- 
ful to  her  apparently  for  the  eas-'  she  gave  the  boy. 
But  she  offered  no  confidences;   the  rooms  she  and 
her  husband  occupied  showed  them  to  be  well-to-do ; 
Marcella  had  so  far  found  them  well-kept;  and  though' 
the  evil  she  was  sent  to  investigate  was  said  to  be 
notorious,  she  had  as  yet  discovered  nothing  of  it  for 
herself.     It  seemed  to  her  that  she  must  be  either 
stupid,  or   that   there  must  be  something  about  her 
which  made   Mrs.  Vincent  more   secretive  with  her 
than  with  others;  and  neither  alternative  pleased  her. 
To-day,  however,  as  slie  stopped  at  the  Vincents' 
door,  she  noti(!ed  that  the  doorstep,  which  was  as  a 
rule  shining  white,  was  muddy  and  neglected.     Then 
nobody  caiu-^  to  oi)en,  thougli    -lu'  i<nocked    mil  rang 
repeatedly.      At    last    a    neigh boui,   who    had    been 


MARC  ELLA. 


Martin's 
['take  for 
iiirses  go 
y  for  the 
from  the 
a  wliih', 
vho  had 
{  OH   the 

heii   the 
iiccepled 
f  viyits, 
ivouriug 
this  hist 
Vincent 
manner, 
il  grate- 
;lie  boy. 
ihe  and 
ll-to-ilo ; 
though 
d  to  be 
f  it  for 
!  either 
311 1  lier 
ith  her 
;ed  her. 
ncents' 
IS  as  a 
Then 
<\  rang 
[    been 


watching  the  s  >aiig((  nurse  thnwtglt  her 


window,  came  out  to  th 


street 
slie  said, 
mystery,  "as   you'd   better   w; 


own  parlour 


"I   think, 


lli  l.iS, 


with 


an  air  of  ])olite 


ilk   in.     Mrs.    V  ncent 


'asn't   been   eujyin'   very   good   'ealth   this   last   few 

days." 

Mareella  tnrned  th..  handle,  found  it  yielded,  and 
W(Mit  ui.  It  was  after  six  o'clo(,k,  and  the  evening 
sun  streamed  in  through  a  door  at  the  back  of  the 
house,  lint  in  the  Vincents'  front  parlour  the  blinds 
were  all  pulled  down,  ami  the  oidy  sound  to  be  heard 
was  the  fretful  wailing  of  a  child.  Marcella  timidly 
opened  the  sitting-room  door. 

The  room  at  first  seemed  to  her  dark.  Then  she 
perceived  Mrs.  Vincent  sitting  by  the  grate,  and  the 
two  cluldren  on  the  floor  beside  her.  Tho  elder,  the 
little  invalid,  was  simply  staring  at  his  mother  'in  a 
wretched  silence;  but  the  younger,  the  babv  of  three 
was  restlessly  throwing  himself  hither  an  I  thither' 
now  pulling  at  the  woman's  skirts,  now  cryin^r  lustily' 
now  whining  in  a  hungry  voice,  for  -  Mama  .Wlin-din  1 
Mama  !  din-din  ! " 

Mrs.  Vincent  neither  moved  nor  spoke,  even  when 
Marcella  came  in.  She  sat  with  her  hands  L  mging 
over  her  lap  in  a  desolation  incapable  of  words  She 
was  dirty  and  unkempt;  the  room  was  covere,  with 
htter;  the  breakfast  things  were  still  on  the  x  ible- 
and  the  children  were  evidently  starving.  ' 

Marcella,  seized  with  pity,  and  divining  what  had 
happened,  tried  to  rouse  and  comfort  her.     But  she 
got  no  answer.     Then  she  asked  for  matches.     .\  rs 
Vincent  made  a  mechanical  effort  to  find  them,  but 


Ufj' 


'^i 


iiif 


i  i 


200 


MARCELLA. 


|j      } 


i!     ■  I' 


subsided  helpless  with  a  shake  of  the  head.  At  last 
Marcella  found  them  herself,  lit  a  tire  of  some  sticks 
she  discovered  in  a  cu]>board,  and  put  on  the  kettle. 
Then  she  cut  a  slice  of  bread  and  dripping  for  each  of 
the  children -the  only  eatables  she  could  find -and 
after  she  ha.l  dressed  Bertie's  leg  she  began  to  wash  up 
the  tea  things  and  tidy  the  room,  not  knowing  very 
well  whnt  to  be  at,  but  hoping  minute  by  minute  to 
get  Mrs.  Vincent  to  speak  to  her. 

In   the   midst   of  h.v   labours,  an   elderly  woman 
caut.o.isly  opened  the  dour  and  beckoned  to  her 
Marcella  went  out  into  the  pnssa«>e 
-I'm  her  mother,  miss  !    I  Vered"you  were  'ere,  an' 
1  follercMl  yer.     Oh !  such  a  business  as  we  'ad,  'er 
usband  an'  me,  a  gettin'  of  'er  'ome  last  night.    There's 
a  neighbour  come  to  me.  an'  she  says:  'Mrs.  Lucas, 
there  s  your  daughter  a  drinkin'  in  that  public  'ouse, 
an  It  I  was  you  Td  go  and  fetch  her  out ;  for  she's 
got  a    ot  o'  money,  an'  she's    treatin'  everybody  all 
round.       An'  Clutrlie- that's  'er  'usband -ee  come 
along  too,  an'  between  us  we  got  holt  on  her      An' 
iver  sence  we  brought  her  'ome  last  night,  she  set 
there  m  that  cheer,  an'  niver  a  word  to  nobody  '     Not 
to  nie  't^any  rate,  nor  the  chillen.    I  believe  'ei-  'usband 
an     er   ad  words  this  mornin'.    But  she  won't  tell  me 
uothin.      She    sits   there -just   heart-broke  "- the 
woman  put  up  her  apron  to  her  eyes  and  began  crying. 
She  am  t  eatin'  nothink  all  day,  an'  T  dursen't  leave 
the    ouse  out  o' me  sight- [  lives  close  by,  miss- 
tor  tear  of  er  doing  'erself  a  mischief." 

''How  long  lias  she  been  like  this  ?  "  said  Marcella 
drawing  the  door  cautiously  to  behind  her 


i'l 


MARCELLA. 


201 


'  's  li 


''About  fourteen  month,"  said  the  woman,  hopelessly 
"An'  none  of  us  knows  why.  She  was  such  a  neat, 
pretty  girl  when  slie  married  'im-an'  ee  such  a  steady 
fellow.  An'  I've  done  my  best.  I've  talked  to  'er, 
an'  I've  'id  'er  'at  an'  her  walking  things,  an'  taken  'er 
money  out  of  'er  pockets.  An',  bless  yer,  she's  been  all 
right  now  for  seven  weeks  — till  last  night.  Oh,  deary, 
deary,  me!  whatever  'ull  become  o'  them  — 'er,  an'  'im' 
an'  the  children ! "  '  .  ^ 

The  tears  coursed  down  the  mother's  wrinkled  face 

"Leave  her  to  me  a  little  longer,"  said  Marcella,' 
softly;  "but  come  back  to  me  in  about  half  an  hour 
and  don't  let  her  be  alone." 

The  woman  nodded,  and  went  away. 

Mrs.  Vincent  turned  quickly  round  as  Marcella 
came  back  again,  and  spoke  for  the  first  time : 

"  That  was  my  mother  you  were  talkin'  to  ?  "  ' 

•'  Yes,"  said  Marcella,  quietly,  as  slie  took  the  kettle 
off  the  hre.  "Now  I  do  want  you  to  have  a  cup  of 
tea,  Mrs.  Vincent.     Will  you,  if  I  make  it  ?  " 

The  poor  creature  did  not  speak,  but  she  followed 
Marcella's  movements  with  her  weary  eves.  At  last 
wiien  Marcella  knelt  down  beside  lier  holding  out  a 
(•up  of  tea  and  some  bread  and  butter,  she  gave  a  sud- 
den cry.  Marcella  hastily  put  down  what  she  carried 
iest  It  should  be  knocked  out  of  her  hand. 

"He  struck  me  this  morning! —  Charlie  did  — the 
nrst  time  in  seven  years.     Look  here  ! " 

She  pulled  up  lier  sleeve,  and  oii  her  white,  delicate 
arm  she  showed  a  large  bruise.  As  she  pointed  to  it 
her  eyes  filled  witli  miserable  tears;  her  lips  quiv- 
ered; angnisli  breatlied  i„  every  feature.     i:'et  even 


l^i- 


I.  ■  1^ 


202 


MARCELLA. 


11   •! 


-i  '1 


!  I 


in  this  abasement  Marcella  was  struck  once  more  with 
her  shm  prettiness,  her  refined  air.  This  woman  drink- 
ing and  treating  in  a  low  public-house  at  midnight  '- 
rescued  thence  by  a  decent  husband  ! 

She  soothed  her  as  best  she  could,  but  when  she  had 
succeeded  in  making  the  wretched  soul  take  food  and 
so  m  putting  some  physical  life  into  her,  she  found  her- 
self the  recipient  of  an  outburst  of  agony  before  whicli 
she  quailed.     The  woman  clung  to  her,  moaning  about 
her  husband,  about  the  demon  instinct  that  had  got 
hola  of  her,   she  hardly  knew  how -by  means   it 
seemed  originally  of  a  few  weeks  of  low  health  and 
small  self-indulgences  — and   she  felt  herself  power- 
less to  fight;  about  the  wreck  she  had  brought  upon 
her  home,  the  shame  upon  her  husband,  who  was  the 
respected,    well-paid    foreman   of    one   of    the  lar^e 
shops  of  the  neighbourhood.     All   through  it  came 
back  to  him. 

"We  had  words.  Nurse,  this  morning,  when  he  went 
out  to  his  work.     He  said  he'd  nearly  died  of  shame 
last  night ;  that  he  couldn't  bear  it  no  more  ;  that  he'd 
take  the  children  from  me.     And  I  was  all  queer  in 
the   head   still,   and    1   sauced  him -and  then -he 
looked  like  a  devil -and  he  took  me  by  the  arm- 
and  thretv  me  down  -  as  if  I'd  been  a  sack.     An'  he 
never,  never  —  touched  me  —  before  —  in  all  his  life 
An'  he's  never  come  in  all  day.     An'  perhaps  I  shan't 
ever  see  him  again.     An'  last  time  -  but  it  wasn't  so 
bad  as  this  -  he  said  he'd  try  an'  love  me  again  if  I'd 
behave.     An'  he  did  try- and  I  tried  too.     But  now 
It  s  no  good,  an'  perhaps  he'll  not  come  back.     Oh 
what  shall  I  do?  what  shall  I  do!"  she  flung  her 


MARC  ELLA. 


203 


more  witli 
nan  drink- 
inight !  — 

5n  she  had 
food,  and 
found  her- 
ore  which 
ing  about 
''  had  got 
means    it 
ealth  and 
If  power- 
;\\t  ujDon 
)  was  the 
ho  large 
it  came 

he  went 
f  shame 
ihat  he'd 
queer  in 
ten  —  he 
3  arm  — 

An'  he 
his  life. 
I  shan't 
asn't  so 
in  if  I'd 
kit  now 
k.  Oh, 
mg  her 


anybody 


arms  above   her  head.     "Woi 
won't  anybody  help  me?" 

She  dropped  a  hand  ui)on  Marcella's  arm,  clutching 
it,  her  wild  eyes  seeking  her  companion's. 

But  at  the  same  moment,  with  the  very  extremity  of 
her  own  emotion,  a  cloud  of  impotence  fell  upon  Mar- 
cella.  She  suddenly  felt  that  she  could  do  nothing  — 
that  there  was  nothing  in  her  adequate  to  such  an 
appeal  — nothing  strong  enough  to  lift  the  weight  of 
a  human  life  thus  flung  upon  her. 

She  was  struck  with  a  dryness,  a  numbness,  that 
appalled  her.  She  tried  still  to  soothe  and  comfort, 
but  nothing  that  she  said  went  home— took  hold' 
Between  the  feeling  in  her  heart  which  might  have 
reached  and  touched  this  despair,  and  the  Nvoman  be- 
fore her,  there  seemed  to  be  a  barrier  she  could  not 
break.  Or  was  it  that  she  was  really  barren  and  poor 
in  soul,  and  had  never  realised  it  before  ?  A  strange 
misery  rose  in  her  too,  as  she  still  knelt,  tending  and 
consoling,  but  with  no  efficacy —  no  power. 

At  last  Mrs.  Vincent  sank  into  miserable  quiet 
again  The  mother  came  in,  and  silently  began  to  put 
the  children  to  bed.  Marcella  pressed  the  wife's  cold 
hand,  and  went  out  hanging  her  head.  She  had  just 
reached  the  door  when  it  opened,  and  a  man  entered. 
A  thrill  passed  through  her  at  the  sight  of  his  honest, 
Haggard  face,  and  this  time  she  found  what  to  say. 

"  I  have  been  sitting  by  your  wife,  Mr.  Vincent 
►^he  IS  very  ill  and  miserable,  and  very  penitent.    You 
will  be  kind  to  her  ?  " 
The  husband  looked  at  her,  and  then  turned  away 
"God  help  us  !  "  he  saidj  and  Marcella  went  with- 


I  A 

111 
I  "I 


204 


MARCELLA. 


i  '  i  ' 


out  another  word,  and  with  that  same  wild,  unaccus- 
tonied  impulse  of  prayer  filling  her  being  which  had 
first  stirred  in  her  at  Mellor  at  the  awful  moment  of 
rlura's  death. 

She  was  very  silent  and  distracted  at  tea,  and  after- 
wards-saying that  she  n)ust  write  some  letters  and 
reports  -  she  shut  herself  up,  and  bade  good-night  to 
Minta  and  the  children. 

But  she  did  not  write  or  read.     She  hung  at  the 
window  a  long  time,  watching  the  stars  come  out,  as 
the  suminer  light  died  from  the  sky,  and  even  the  w;ils 
and  roofs  and  chimneys  of  this  interminable  London 
spread   out   before  her  took  a  certain   dim   beauty 
And  then,  slipping  down  on  the  floor,  with  her  head 
against  a  chair-  an  attitude  of  her  stormy  childhood 
--she  wept  with  an  abandonment  and  a  passion  she 
had  not  known  for  years.     She  thought  of  Mrs  Jer- 
vis-the  saint -so  near  to  death,  so  satisfied  with 
grace,    so  steeped  in  the  heavenly  life;  then  of  the 
poor  sinner  she  had  just  left  and  of  the  agony  she  had 
no  power  to  stay.     Both  experiences  had  this  in  com- 
mon _  that  each  had  had  some  part  in  plunging  her 
deeper  into  this  darkness  of  self-contempt 

theie  had  been  something  wrestling  in  her- some 
new  birth- some  "conviction  of  sin,"  as  Mrs.  Jervis 
would  have  said.  As  she  looked  back  over  all  her 
strenuous  youth  she  hated  it.  What  was  wrong  with 
hev  ^  Her  own  word  to  Anthony  Craven  returned 
upon  her,  mocked  her  -  made  now  a,  scourge  for  her 
own  pride,  not  a  mere  measure  of  blame  for  others 


MARCELLA. 


205 


I,  unaccus- 
tvhich  had 
noment  of 


and  after- 
itters  and 
d-night  to 

ng  at  the 
le  out,  as 
the  walls 
i  London 
beauty, 
her  head 
hildhood 
ision  she 
VIrs.  Jer- 
fted  with 
ti  of  the 
she  had 
in  com- 
bing her 


Aldoiis  Raeburn,  her  father  and  mother,  her  poor  — 
one  and  all  rose  against  her  — plucked  at  her  — re- 
proached her.  ''  Aye !  what,  indeed,  are  wealth  and 
poverty?  "  cried  a  voice,  which  was  the  voice  of  them 
all;  "what  are  opinion-,  —  what  is  influence,  beauty 
cleverness  ?  -  what  is  anything  worth  but  character 
—  but  soul  9" 

And  character  — soul— can  only  be  got  by  self- 
surrender;  and  self-surrender  comes  not  of  knowledge 
but  of  love. 

A  number  of  thoughts  and  phrases,  hitherto  of  little 
meaning  to  her,  floated  into  her  mind— sank  and 
pressed  there.  That  strange  word  "grace"  for  in- 
stance! 

A  year  ago  it  would  not  have  smitten  or  troubled 
her.  After  her  first  inevitable  reaction  against  the 
evangelical  training  of  her  school  years,  the  rebellious 
cleverness  of  youth  had  easily  decided  that  religion 
was  played  out,  that  Socialism  and  Science  were  enough 
lor  mankind. 

But  nobody  could  live  in  hospital  —  nobody  could  go 
among  the  poor  — uobody  could  share  the  thoughts 
and  hopes  of  people  like  Edward  Hallin  and  his  sister 
Avithout  understanding  that  it  is  still  here  in  the  world 
-this  "grace"  that  "sustaineth"— however  variously 
niterpreted,  still  living  and  working,  as  it  worked  of 
old,  among  the  little  Galilean  towns,  in  Jerusalem,  in 
Corinth.  To  Edward  HaJlin  it  did  not  mean  the  same, 
perhaps,  as  it  meant  to  tlie  hard-worked  clergymen  she 
knew,  or  to  Mrs.  Jervis.  But  to  all  it  meant  the 
motive  power  of  life -something  subduing,  transform- 
"ig.  delivering  — somotliing  that  to-night  she  envied 
with  a  passion  and  a  yearning  that  amazed  herself. 


)■      ■  *  \H 


I      ''('Ft- 


206 


MARCELLA. 


How  many  things  she  craved,  as  an  eager  child  craves 
them!  First  some  moral  change,  she  knew  not  what 
—  then  Aldous  Raeburn's  pardon  and  friendship  — 
then  and  above  all,  the  power  to  lose  herself  — the 
power  to  love. 

Dangerous  significant  moment  in  a  woman's  life  — 
moment  at  once  of  despair  and  of  illusion ! 


I 


■1 


II; 


.r ; 

p   •- 


ikuiiii 


f 

1 

<  h 

' 

1 

CHAPTER   VTII. 

Wharton  was  sitting  in  a  secluded  corner  of  the 
library  of  the  House  of  Commons.  He  had  a  number 
of  loose  sheets  of  paper  on  a  chair  beside  him,  and 
others  in  his  hand  and  on  his  knee.  It  was  Friday 
afternoon;  questions  were  going  on  in  the  House;  and 
he  was  running  rapidly  for  the  last  time  through  tha 
notes  of  his  speech,  pencilling  here  and  there,  and 
every  now  and  then  taking  up  a  volume  of  Hansard 
that  lay  near  that  he  might  verify  a  quotation. 

An  old  county  member,  with  a  rugged  face  and 
eye-glasses,  who  had  been  in  Parliament  for  a  genera- 
tion, came  to  the  same  corner  to  look  up  a  speech. 
He  glanced  curiously  at  Wharton,  with  whom  he 
had  a  familiar  House-of-Commons  acquaintance. 

"Nervous,  eh?"  he  said,  as  he  put  on  his  eye- 
glasses to  inspect  first  Wharton,  then  the  dates  on  the 
backs  of  the  Reports. 

Wharton  put  his  papers  finally  together,  and  gave 
a  long  stretch. 

''Not  particularly." 

"Well,  it's  a  beastly  audience!"  said  the  other, 
carrying  off  his  book. 

Wharton,  lost  apparently  in  contemplation  of  the 
ceilmg,  fell  into  a  dreamy  attitude.  But  his  eye  saw 
nothing  of  the  ceiling,  and  was  not  at  all  dreamy. 

207 


f    P 


.  i 


'li 


UH 


208 


MARCELLA. 


He  was  not  thinking  of  his  spcer'],,  nor  of  the  other 
man's  remark.     He  was  thinking  of  Maroelhi  Boyce 

When  he  left  her  the  other  day  he  liad  been  con- 
scious, only  more  vividly  and  intensely,  more  pos- 
sessively as  it  were,  than  she,  of  the  same  general 
impression  that  had  been  left  upon  her.  A  new 
opemng  for  pleasure -their  meeting  presented  itself 
to  ium,  too,  in  the  same  Avay.  What  had  he  been 
about  all  this  time?  Forget? -^n^,  a  creature  v 
Why,  It  was  the  merest  wantonness!  As  if  such 
women -with  such  a  brow,  such  vitality,  such  a 
gait  — passed  in  every  st -eet ! 

What  possessed  him  now  was  an  imperious  eager- 
ness to  push  the  matter,  to  recover  the  old  intimacy 
—and  as  to  what  might  come  out  of  it,  let  the  -ods 
decide  !  He  could  have  ha.l  but  a  very  raw  ai,pr:cia- 
tioM  of  her  at  Mellor.  It  seemed  to  him  that  she  had 
never  forced  him  to  think  of  her  then  in  absence,  as 
he  had  thought  of  lier  since  the  last  meetin- 

As  for  the  nursing  business,  and  the  settlement 
in  Brown^  Buildings,  it  was,  of  course,  mere  play- 
acting. No  doubt  when  she  emerged  she  would  be  all 
the  more  of  a  personage  for  having  done  it.  But  she 
must  enierge  soon.  To  rule  and  shine  was  as  much 
her  metier  as  it  was  the  metier  of  a  bricklayer's 
labourer  to  carry  hods.     By  George  !  what  would  not 

..'ff  ,f'Z  ^'^"  ^"'  ^'"^^'^  ^^  ''''^  '^'Svee  and  kind 
as  that !  rhey  must  be  brought  together.  He  already 
foresaw  that  the  man  who  should  launch  Marcelk 
Boyce  m  Loiidon  would  play  a  stroke  for  himself  as 
well  as  for  her.  And  she  must  be  launched  in  Lon- 
don.    Let  other  people  nurse,  and  pitch  their  tent«  ii. 


MARCELLA. 


209 


titimacy 
lie  gods 
)pi"ecia- 
5lie  had 
ance,  as 

\r 

:;lement 
3   play- 
i  be  all 
3ut  she 
3  much 
layer's 
dd  not 
d  kind 
,1  ready 
arcella 
self  as 
1  Lon- 
ints  in 


little  workmen's  flats,  and  live  democracy  instead  of 
preaching  it.      Her  fate  was   tixed   for   her   hy   her 
physique.     II  nefant  pas  sortir  de  son  caracf<>re. 
The  sight  of  liennott  ai)proa(diing  distracted  him. 
Bennett's  good  face  showed  obvious  vexation. 
"He  sticks  to  it,"  he  said,  as  Wharton  jumped  up 
to  meet  him.     "Talks  of  his  conscience  — and  a  lot 
of  windy  stuff.     He  seems  to  have  arranged  it  with 
the  Whips.     I  dare  say  he  won't  do  much  iiarm." 

"Except  to  himself,"  said  Wharton,  with  dry  bitter- 
ness.    "  Goodness  !  let's  leave  him  alone  !  " 

He  and  Bennett  lingered  a  few  nnnutes  discussing 
points  of  tactics.     Wilkins  had,  of  course,  once  more 
declared  himself  the  enfant  terrible  of  a  party  which, 
though  still  undefined,  was  drawing  nearer  day  by  day 
to  organised  existence  aiul  separate  leadership.     The 
etfect  of  to-night's  debate  might  be  of  far-reaching  im- 
portance.    Wharton's  Kesolution,  pledging  the  House 
to  a  Legal  Eight  Hours'  Day  for  all  trades,  came  at 
the  end  of  a  long  and  varied  agitation,  was  at  the 
moment  in  clear  practical   relation  to  labour  move- 
ments  all  over  the  country,  and  had  in  fact  gained 
greatly  in  significance  and  interest  since  it  was  first 
heard  of  in  public,  owing  to  events  of  current  history. 
Workable  proposals  — a  moderate  tone  — and  the  ap- 
pearance, at  any  rate,  of  harmony  and  a  united  front 
among  the  representatives  of  Ibour  — if  so  much  at 
least  could  be  attained  to-nig..o,  both  Wharton  and 
Bennett  believed  that  not  only  the  cause  itself,  but 
the  importance  of  tlie  Labour  party  in   the   House 
would  be  found  to  have  gained  enormously. 
"I  hope   T  shall  get  my  turn  before  dinner,"  said 

VOL.  II. —14 


1      !    i 


I         ■    i 


210 


MMiCKLLA, 


I 


Heiinett,  as  hn  wms  -oinjr;  »T  vvnnt  badly  to  get  off 
for  an  hour  or  so.  Tlie  division  won't  be  till  half-past 
ten  at  earliest." 

Wharton  stood  for  a  moment  in  a  brown  study,  witii 
Ins  hands  in  his  pockets,  after  liennctt  left  hin'i.     It 
was  by  no  means  wholly  elear  to  liini  what  line  Ben- 
nett wouhl  take -with  regard  to  one  or  two  points 
After  a  long  MCfpiaintinee  with  the  little  man,  Whar- 
ton was  not  always,  nor  indeed  generally,  at  his  ease 
with  him.     Bennett  had  curious  reserves.     As  to  his 
hour  off,  Whart-m  felt  tolerably  certain  that  he  meant 
to   go  and    hear  a  famous  Kevivalist  preacdu'r  hold 
forth  at  a  public  hall  not  far  from  the  House.     The 
streets  were  full  of  i)]acai'ds. 

Well !  — to  every  man  his  own  excitements  !  What 
time  ?  H<.  looked  first  at  Ins  watch,  then  at  the 
marked  question  paper  liennett  Iiad  left  behind  him 
The  next  minute  he  was  hurrying  along  passages  and 
stairs,  Avith  his  springing,  boyish  step,  to  the  Ladies' 
Gallery. 

The  magnificent  doorkeeper  saluted  him  with  par- 
ticular deference.  Vv  harton  was  in  general  a  favour- 
ite with  officials. 

"  The  two  ladies  are  come,  sir.  You'll  find  them  in 
the  front  — oh!  not  very  full  yet,  sir  — will  be  di- 
rectly." 

Wharton  drew  aside  the  curtain  of  the  Gallery,  and 
looked  in.  -Yes! -there  was  the  dark  head  bent 
forward,  pressed  indeed  against  the  grating  which 
closes  the  front  of  the  den  into  whicd:  the  House  of 
Commons  puts  its  ladies  — as  though  its  owner  were 
already  absorbed  in  what  was  passing  before  her. 


•Ai-i,.V: 


MARC  ELLA. 


211 


She  looked  ui^  with  an  eager  start,  as  she  heard  his 
voiee  in  her  ear. 

"Oh!  now,  come  and  tell  us  everything  — and  who 
everybody  is.  Why  don't  we  see  the  Speaker  ?  —  and 
u'hic^h  is  the  Government  side  ?  —  oh,  yes,  I  see.  And 
who's  this  speaking  now  '/  " 

"Why,  r  thought  you  knew  everything,"  said 
Wharton  as,  with  a  greeting  to  Miss  Craven,  he 
slipped  in  beside  them  and  took  a  still  vacant  chair 
tor  an  instant.  -  How  shall  I  instruct  a  Speaker's 
great-niece  ?  " 

"Why,  of  course  I  ieel  as  if  the  place  belonged  to 
me  ! "  said  Marcella,  impatiently  ;  -  but  that  som(diow 
doesn't  seem  to  help  ine  to  people's  names.  Where's 
Mr.  Gladstone?  Oh,  I  see.  Look,  look,  Edith '^ 
he's  just  come  in!-oh,  don't  be  so  superior,  though 
you  have  been  here  before -you  (wouldn't  tell  me 
heaps  of  pe()])le !" 

Her  voice  had  a  note  of  joyous  excitement  like  a 
child's. 

"That's  because  I'm  short-sighted,"  said  Edith 
U-aveii,  calmly ;  -  but  it's  no  reason  why  you  should 
show  me  Mr.  Gladstone." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear !  -do  be  quiet !  Now,  Mr 
Wharton,  where  are  the  Irishmen?  Oh!  I  wish  we 
fould  have  an  Irish  row  !  And  where  do  you  sit  '^  —  I 
see -and  there's  Mr.  Bennett -and  that  black-faced 
Hian  Mr.  Wilkins,  I  met  at  the  Hallins-you  don't 
hke  him,  do  you  ?  "  she  said,  drawing  back  and  look-- 
ing  at  him  sharply. 

Who?     Wilkins?     Perhaps  you'd  better  ask  me 
question  .ater  on ! "  said  Wharton,  with  a  twist  of 


u 


I         !       I 


\i 


212 


MAItCKLLA. 


1     r 


the  hp;  "he's  goinp  to  do  liis  best  to  make  a  fool  of 
himself  and    us    t()-iiin;l,t_  wo  shall  see!     It's  kind 
of  you  to  wish  us  an  Irish  row  !  — considering  that  if 
I  miss  my  cdiaiuie  to-night  I  shall  never  get  another!" 
"  Then  for  heaven's  sake  don't  let's  wish  it ! "  she 
said  decidedly.     *'0h,  that's  the  Irish  Seeretary  an- 
swering now,  is  it  ?  "  -  a  i)ause  -  '*  Dear  me,  how  civil 
everybody  is.     I  don't  think  this  is  a  good  place  for  a 
Democrat,  Mr.  Wharton  — I  find   myself  terribly  in 
love  with  the  Government,     l^ut  who's  that  ?  " 

She  craned  her  neck.     Wharton  was    silent.     The 
next  instant  she  drew  hurriedly  back. 

•'  I  didn't  see,"  she  murmured  ;  "it's  so  confusing." 
A  tall  man  had  risen  from  the  end  of  the  (Govern- 
ment bench,  and  was  giving  an  answer  connected  with 
the  Home  Secretary's  department.  For  the  first  time 
since  their  parting  in  the  Mellor  drawing-room  Mar- 
cella  saw  Aldous  Raeburn. 

She  fell  very  silent,  and  leant  back  in  her  chair. 
Yet  Wharton's  quick  glance  perceived  that  she  both 
looked  and  listened  intently,  so  long  as  the  some- 
what high-pitched  voice  was  speaking. 

"  He  does  those  things  very  well,"  he  said  care- 
lessly, judging  it  best  to  take  the  bull  by  the  horns. 
"  Never  a  word  too  much  —  they  don't  get  any  change 
out  of  him.  Do  you  see  that  old  fellow  in  the  white 
beard  under  the  gallery  ?  He  is  one  of  the  chartered 
l)ores.  When  he  gets  up  to-night  the  House  will  dine. 
I  shall  come  up  and  look  for  you,  and  hand  you  over 
to  a  friend  if  I  may  — a  Staffordshire  member,  who 
has  his  wife  here  — Mrs.  Lane.  I  have  engaged  a 
table,  and   I  can   start  with   you.     Unfortunately   I 


:;'j 


jiil 


MARCELLA. 


213 


mustn't  be    '   ,„  out  of  the  House,  as  it's  my  motion; 
Imt  tliify  will  look  after  you." 

The  girls  glanced  a  little  shyly  at  each  other. 
Nothing  had  been  said  about  dining;  but  AVharton 
took  it  for  granted  ;  and  they  yielded.  It  was  Mar- 
(H'lla's  «'day  off,"  and  she  was  a  free  woman. 

'^  (^od-bye,  then,"  he  said,  getting  up.  "  \  shall  be 
on  in  about  twenty  minutes.     Wisji  me  well  through! " 

Marcella  looked  round  and  smiled.  Hut  her  viva(uty 
had  been  quenched  for  the  moment ;  and  \Vh;irton  de- 
parted not  quite  so  well  heartened  for  the  fray  as  he 
could  have  wished  to  be.  It  was  liard  \xxvk  tiiat  the 
Raeburn  ghost  should  walk  this  i)articular  evening. 

Marcella  bent  forward  again  when  lie  had  gone, 
p-.id  remained  for  long  silent,  looking  down  into  the 
rapidly  filling  House.  Aldous  Kaeburn  was  lying 
back  on  the  Treasury  bench,  his  face  upturned.  She 
knew  very  well  that  it  was  impossible  he  should  see 
her ;  yet  every  now  and  then  she  shrank  ii  little  away 
as  though  he  must.  The  iuve  looked  to  her  older  and 
singularly  blanched ;  but  she  sujjposed  that  nnist  be 
the  effect  of  the  light;  for  she  noticed  the  same 
])allor  in  many  others. 

"  All  that  my  life  can  do  to  pour  good  measure  — 
pressed  doivn  — running  over  — into  yours,  I  voiced  you 
then  !  " 

The  words  stole  into  her  memory,  throbbing  there 
like  points  of  pain.  Was  it  indeed  this  man  under 
her  eyes  —  so  listless,  so  unconscious  —  who  had  said 
them  to  her  with  a  passion  of  devotion  it  shamed  her 
to  think  of. 

And  now  —  never  so  much  as  an  ordinary  word  oi 


.    -tj' 


ii  1     I! 


n 


(     '1 


i 


214 


MARCELLA. 


f I  .'  I  • 


i 


i    ^ 


Inendship  between  them  again  ?  "On  the  broad  seas 
of  life  enisled"  — separate,  estranged,  for  ever?  It 
was  like  the  touch  of  death  —  the  experience  brought 
with  It  such  a  chill —  such  a  sense  of  irreparable  fact, 
of  limitations  never  to  be  broken  through. 

Then   she   braced   herself.     The  "things  that  are 
behind  "  must  be  left.     To  have  married  him  after  all 
would  iiave  been  the  greatest   wrong.     Nor,  in  one 
sense,  was  what  she  had  done  irreparable.     She  chose 
to  believe  Prank  Leven,  rather  than  Edward  Hallin. 
Of  course   he  must  and  should  marry !     It  was  ab- 
surd to  suppose  that  he  should  not.    No  one  had  a 
stronger  sense  of  family  than  he.     And  as  for  the 
girl  — the    little    dancing,   flirting    girl  !  _  vvhy   the 
thing  happened  every  day.     Hi^  wife  should  not  be 
too  strenuous,  taken  up  with  problems  and  questions 
of  her  own.     She  should  cheer,  amuse,  distract  him. 
Marcella  endeavoured  to  think  of  it  all  with  the  dry 
common-sense  her  mother  would  have  applied  to  it. 
One  thing  at  least  was  clear   to   her  —  the   curious 
recognition    that    never    before    had   she    considered 
Aldous  Kaeburn,  in  and  for  himself,  as  an  indepen- 
dent human  being. 

"He  was  just  a  j)iece  of  furniture  in  my  play  last 
year,"  she  said  to  herself  with  a  pang  of  frank  re- 
morse.    "  He  was  well  quit  of  me  !  " 

But  she  was  beginning  to  recover  her  spirits,  and 
when  at  last  Kaeburn,  after  a  few  words  with  a  min- 
ister who  had  just  arrived,  disappeared  suddenly 
behind  the  Speaker's  chair,  the  spectacle  below  her 
seized  her  with  the  same  fascination  as  before. 

The    House    was    tilling   rapidly.      (Questions   were 


bisfeA.!. 


MARC ELL A. 


215 


nearly  over,  and  the  speech  of  the  evening,  on  which 
considerable  public  expectation  both  inside  and  out- 
side Parliament  had  been  for  some  time  concentrated, 
was  fast  approaching.  Peers  were  straggling  into  the 
gallery  ;  the  reporters  were  changing  just  below  her : 
and  some  "  crack  hands  "  among  them,  who  had  been 
lounging  till  now,  were  beginning  to  pay  attention 
and  put  their  paper  in  order.  The  Irish  benches,  the 
Opposition,  the  Government  — all  were  full,  and  there 
was  a  large  grouj)  of  members  round  the  door. 

"There  he  is  !"  cried  Marcella,  involuntarily,  with  a 
pulse  of  excitement,  as  Wharton's  light  young  figure 
made  its  way  through  the  crowd.  He  sat  down  on  a 
corner  seat  below  the  gangway  and  put  on  his  hat. 

In  five  minutes  more  he  was  on  his  feet,  speaking 
to  an  attentive  and  crowded  House  in  a  voice  — clear, 
a  little  hard,  but  capable  of  the  most  accomplished  and 
subtle  variety  —  which  for  the  first  moment  sent  a 
shudder  of  memory  through  iMarcelhi. 

Then  she   found   herself   listening  with   as   much 
trepidation  and  anxiety  as  though  some  personal  in- 
terest and  reputation  depended  for  her,  too,  on  the 
success  of  the  speech.     Her  mind  was  first  invaded 
by  a  strong,  an  irritahle  sense  of  the  difficulty  of  the 
audience.     How  was  it  possible  for  any  one,  unless  he 
had  been  trained  to  it  for  years,  to  make  any  effect 
upon  such  a  crowd!  — so  irresponsive,  individualist, 
unfused  — so  lacking,  as  it  seemed  to  the  raw  spec- 
tator, in  the  qualities  and  excitements  that  properly 
belong  to   multitude!      Half  the   men  down  below, 
under  their  hats,  seemed  to  her  asleep;  the  rest  indif- 
ferent.    And   were   those   languid,  indistinguishable 
inurmurs  what  the  newspapers  call  '^ekecrs''? 


Vi  ^  t  ■ 


V    i 


i'  f 


216 


MAIWELLA. 


But  the  voioe  bolow  flowo.l  oi, ;    point  after  point 
«^ime  briskly  out;  the  atnios])liere  wiirnied ;  and  pres- 
«>ntly   tliis  first  impression   passed    into   one  wholly 
different -nay,  at  the  opposite  ],ole.     Gradually  the 
girl's  ardent  sense  — informed,  i)erhaps,  more  richly 
than  most  women's  with  the  memories  of  history  and 
literature,  for  in  her  impatient  way  she  had  been  at 
all  times  a  quick,  omnivorous  reader  — awoke  to  the 
peculiar  conditions,  the  special  thrill,  attaching  to  the 
place  and  its  performers.    The  philosoph,.r  derides  it- 
the  man  of  letters  out  of  the  House  talks  of  it  with' 
a  smile  as  a  "Ship  of  Fools";    both,  when  occasion 
offers,  passionately  desire  a  seat  in  it;   each  wouhl 
give  his  right  hand  to  succeed  in  it. 

Why?    Because  here  after  all  is  power  — here  is 
the  central  machine.     Here  are  the  men  who,  both 
by  their  qualities  and  their  defects,  are  to  have  for 
their  span  of  life  the  leading  —  or  the  wrecking  ?  —  of 
this  great  fate-bearing  force,  this  "  weary  Titan  "  we 
call  our  country.     Here  things  are  not  only  debated 
but  done  — lamely  or  badly,  perhaps,  but  still  done  — 
which  will  affect  our  children's  children;  which  link 
us  to  the  Past ;  which  carry  us  on  safely  ..r  danger- 
ously to  a  Future  only  the  gods  know.     And  in  this 
passage,  this  chequered,  doubtful  passage  from  think- 
ing to  doing,  an  infinite  savour  and  passion  of  life  is 
somehow  disengaged.     It  penetrates  through  the  bore- 
dom, through  all  the  failure,  public  and  personal-  it 
enwraps  the  spectacle  and  the  actors  ;  it  carries  and 
supports  patriot  and  adventurer  alike. 

Ideas,  perceptions  of  this  kind  — the  first  chill  over 
—  stole  upon  and  comjuered  JMarct^lla.     Presently  it 


u^,  .,4,4 


i-  fl 


MAliCELLA. 


217 


fter  point 
and  pres- 
le  wholly 
iually  the 
)re  richly 
story  and 

I  been  at 
)ke  to  the 
ng  to  tlie 
erides  it ; 
•f  it  with 

occasion 
di  would 

—  here  is 

ho,  both 

have  for 

ig?  — of 

tan  "  we 

debated, 

done  — 

ich  link 

danger- 

in  this 

II  think- 
f  life  is 
he  bore- 
onal;  it 
'ies  and 


lill  over 

y 


jntlv  it 


was  as  thou,..di  she  had  jmssed  into  Wharton's  place 
was  seeing  with  his  (>ycs,  f.-ding  with  his  nerves      It 
would  be  a  success  this  speech  -  it  was  a  success  '    The 
House  was  gained,  was  attentive.     A  case  long  familiar 
to  ,t  in  portions  and  fragments,  which  had  been  spoilt 
by  violence  and  discredited  by  ignorance,  was  being 
presented  to  it  with  all  the  resources  of  a  great  talent 
-with  brilliaiuiy,  moderation,  practical  detail -mod- 
eration above  all !     From  the  slight  historical  sketch, 
with  which  the  sj)eech  opcmed,  of  the  En-dish  "work- 
ing day,"  tln^  causes  and  tlie  results  of  the  Factory  Acts 
-through  the  general  .lescription  of  the  present  situ- 
ation  of  the  workman's  present  l^ours,  opportunities 
and  demands,  the  growth  of  the  desire  for  State  con- 
trol, the  machinery  by  which  it  was  to  be  enforced, 
and  the  effects  it  migiit  be  expected  to  have  on  the 
vvoi.,nian  himself,  on  the  great  army  of  tiie  '' unem- 
ployed,   on  wages,  on  production,  and  on  the  economic 
future  of  England  -  the  speaker  carried  his  thread  of 
luminous  speech,  without  ever  losing  his  audience  for 
an  mstant.     At  every  point  he  addressed  himself  to 
tl.e  smoothing  of  difficulties,  to  the  propitiation  of  fears  • 
and  when,  after  the  long  and  masterly  handling  of 
detail  he  came  to  his  peroration,  to  the  bantering  of 
capitalist  terrors,  to  the  vindication  of  the  workman's 
^•laim  to  fix  the  conditions  of  his  labour,  and  to  the 
vision  lightly  and  simply  touched  of  the  regenerate 
working  home  of  the  future,  inhabited  by  free  men, 
dedicated  to  something  beyond  the  first  brutal  neces- 
sities of  the  bodily  life,  possessed  indeed  of  its  proper 
share  of  the  human  inheritance  of  leisure,  knowledge 
anduehght— th 


il 


;— the  crowded  benches  bef 


ore  and  behind 


1:       I 


HM 


218 


MARC  ELL  A. 


Iiiin  grudged  him  none  of  it.  The  House  of  Commons 
is  not  tolerant  of  ''flights,"  except  from  its  chartered 
masters.  But  this  young  man  had  earned  Iiis  flight ; 
and  they  heard  him  i)atiently.  For  the  rest,  tlu' 
(lovernment  had  been  most  attractively  wooed;  and 
the  Liberal  party  in  the  midst  of  nuuih  plain  sj^eaking 
had  been  treated  on  the  whole  witli  a  deference;  and  a 
forbearance  that  had  long  been  conspicuously  lacking 
in  the  utterances  of  the  Labour  men. 

'"The  mildest  mannered  man'  et  cetera!''  said  u 
suiiling  member  of  the  late  Go/ernment  to  a  com- 
panion on  the  front  Opposition  bench,  as  Wharton  sat 
down  amid  the  general  stir  and  movement  which 
betoken  the  break-up  of  a  crowded  House,  and  the 
end  of  a  successful  speech  which  people  are  eago- 
to  discuss  in  the  h)bbies.  "A  fine  performance,  eh '/ 
Great  advance  on  anything  last  year." 

"Bears  about  as  much  relation  to  facts  as  I  do  to 
the  angels  ! "  growled  the  man  addressed. 

"  What !  as  bad  as  that  ?  "  said  the  other,  laughing. 
"  Look  :  they  have  put  up  old  Denny.  I  think  I  shall 
stay  ami  hear  him."  And  he  laid  down  his  hat  again 
which  he  had  taken  up. 

Meanwhile  Marcella  in  the  Ladies'  Gallery  had 
tlirown  herself  back  in  her  chair  with  a  long  breath. 

•'  How  can  one  listen  to  anything  else  ! "  she  said  ; 
and  for  a  long  time  she  sat  staring  at  the  House  with- 
out hearing  a  word  of  what  the  very  competent, 
caustic,  and  well-informed  manufacturer  on  the  (Gov- 
ernment side  was  saying.  Every  dramatic  and  a-s- 
thetic  instinct  she  possessed  — and  she  was  full  of 
them  — had  been  stirr.'d  and  satisfied  by  the  speech 
and  the  speaker. 


AJ,..-,^ 


MAIUJKLLA. 


219 


Commons 
chartered 
lis  flight ; 
rest,  tlic 
ioed;  and 
.  speaking 
nee  and  a 
iy  laeking 

^''  said  a 
;o  a  eom- 
lai'ton  sat 
nt  whieli 
,  and  the 
are  eagei- 
inee,  e]i '.' 

LS  1  do  to 

laughing, 
k  I  shall 
lat  again 

iery  had 
breath, 
ihe  said ; 
ise  v/ith- 
mpetent. 
;he  (tov- 
and  a's- 
full  of 
\  speech 


Bu    more  than  that.     Pfe  had  spoken  for  the  toiler 
and  the  poor;  his  peroration  above  all  had  contaim.l 
tones  and  ae(;ents  u'hieh  were  in  fact  the  products  of 
something  perfectly  sincere   in   the  speaker's  motley 
personality;  and  this  girl,  who  in  her  wild   way  had 
given  herself  to  the  poor,  had  lollowed  him  with  all 
lier  passionate  heart.     Yet,  at  the  same  time,  with  an 
amount  of  intellectual  dissent  every  now  and  then  as 
to  measui^s  and  methods,  a  scepticism  of  detail  which 
as  on,shed  herself!     A  year  before  she  had  been  as 
a  babe  beside  him,  whether  in  nuitters  of  pure  mind 
or  of  worldly  experience.     Now  she  was  for  the  first 
tmie  conscious  of  a  curious  growth -independence  ' 

But  the  intellectual  revolt,  su(,h  as  it  was,  was  lost 
agam,  as  soon  as  it  arose,  in  the  general  in.pression 
wlucd.  the  speech  had  left  upon  her -in  tins  warm 
quickening  of  the  pulses,  this  romantic  interest  in  the 
hgure  the  scene,  the  young  emerging  personality. 

Edith  Craven  looked  at  her  with  wondering  amuse- 
ment     She  and  her  brothers  were  typical  Venturists 
-a    ittle  cynical,  therefore,  towards  all  the  world 
.lend  or  foe.     A  Venturist  is  a  Socialist  minus  cant! 
aud  a  cause  which  cannot  exist  at  all  without  a  passion 
of  seitiment  lays  it  down  -  through  him-asalirst 
aw  that  sentiment  in  public  is  the  abominable  thing 
Ld  th  Craven  thought  that  after  all  Marcella  was  little 
le^y-aw  and  simple  now  than,  slie  had  been  in  the  old 

-rhere!"  said  Marcella,  with  relief,  "that's  done 
^ow,  who's  this  *>     That  man  Wilkins  ' " 

Her  tone  showed  her  disgust,  \\41kins  had  spruno- 
^•P  the  instant  \N-iuu.ton's  Conservative  opponent  had 


-ft 


220 


MAliCELLA. 


I '.; 


nii 


given  the  first  deeisive  sign  of  sitting  down.  Another 
man  on  the  same  side  was  also  np,  but  Wilkins,  black 
and  frowning,  held  his  own  stubbornly,  and  his  rival 
subsided. 

With   the  first  sentences  of  the   new  speech   the 
Jbmse  knew  that  it  was  to  have  an  emotion,  an.l  men 
came   trooping   in   again.      And   (certainly  the  short, 
stormy  utterance  was  dramatic;  enough.     Dissent  on 
the  part  of  an  important  north-country  Union  from 
some  of  the  most  vital  machinery  of  the  bill  which 
had  been  sketched    by  Wliarton  -  personal   jealousy 
and  distrust  of  the  mover  of  the  resolution  — denial 
ot   his  representative    ])lace,   and  sneers  at  his  kid- 
gloved  attempts  to  help  a  class  with  which  he  had 
nothing  to  do  — the  most  violent  protest  against  the 
servility  with  which  lie  had  truc^kled  to  the  now  effete 
party  of  free  contract  and  political  enfranchisement - 
and  the  most  passionate  assertion  that  between  'uiy 
Labour  i)arty,  worthy  of  the  name,  and  either  of  the 
great  parties  of  the  pnst  there  lay  and  must  lie  a  gulf 
of  hatred,  unfathomable  and   unquenchable,  till  'La- 
bour had  got  its  rights,  and  landlord,  employer,  and 
dividend-hunter  were  trampled  beneath  its  heel—  ill 
these  ngly  or  lurid  things  emerged  with  surprisi'no. 
clearness  from  the  torrent  of  north-country  speecir 
For  twenty  minutes  Nehemiah  Wilkins  rioted  in  one 
of  the  best  -  times  "  of  his  life.    That  he  was  an  orator 
thousands   of  working   men  had   borne  him  witness 
again  and  again;    and  in  his   own    opinion  he  had 
never  sjjoken  better. 

The  House  at  first  enjoyed  its  sensation.     Then, 
as  the  hard  words  rattled  on.  it  mn^ 


passed  easily  into  tl 


le 


MAn(:ii/,r.A. 


221 


t  KH  of  nn,  ,»,.„„.„  .     Lady  ,'r:uU-k',  Imvly  I,u,l,,„,cl 

Wl,ait,,i,  s  oye,  ,.„d  .„„il,„i,  .^  tl,„„j;h  to  .say:  "  \Vl,at' 
-you  have,,  t  ov.„  b,.,,,  al,lo  to  k,:,.,,  „,,  a,,,,oa,.anocs 
»o  far  -  An,l  Wilki,,^.^  H„al  attack  „„o,l  tllo  Liberals 
-who,  afte,.  ,.„„,i„.  their  ovv„  el,a„ees  and  the 
oha,,ees  of  the  co„„t,.y,  were  „ow  eo.ne  cap  i„  ha„d 
to  he  „o,.k,„g  ,na„  whi„i„g  for  his  support  as  their 
mlyhope  of  .-eeovery  _  was  .lelivered  to  a  ,„ocki„g 
cl.orus  of  la„ght,.r  au,l  cheers,  i„  tl,e  .nidst  of  which 
with  an  augry  shake  of  his  great  shoulders,  he  fluug 
himself  dow,i  o„  his  seat  * 

Meanwhile  Wharton,  who  ha-l  spent  the  first  part 
on\  ,lkn,s  s  speech  m  a  state  of  restless  fidget,  h  is  bat 
ove.  h,s  eyes,  was  alternately  sitting  e,ect  with 
rad,a,,t  looks,  or  talking  rapidly  to  Bennett,  who  had 
o,„e  to  s,t  besnle  hi,„.  The  Ho,«e  Seereta  y  got  ,tp 
after  W.lkms  had  sat  down,  and  spent  a  geniaf  for  v 

couched  "V''"™""«  "'"  «-""»-'*.»»  pos^uMus, 
«mched,  of  course,  n,  the  tone  of  deference  to  Kin^ 
Labour  w  neb  the  modern  states,nan  learns  at  hi? 
mothers  knee,  but  enlivened  with  a  good  deal  o 

«  ,,nd  effective  perplexity  as  to  which  h:nd  to 
h.  ke       I     |,„^^  ^^^^^  ^  ^.^ji^^^^  ^^^^j  ^^ 

.  t„bute  of  compliment  to  Wharton,  ,„ixed  with  some 

"ci":: of""""''.'."  ^""'  "^^  •'P""'''*-"  -"'"  "h 
tcioc  ties  of  some  others  of  its  nominal  friends 

Altogether,    the    finished    performance  of  the  old 

noticeu  that  Aldous  Raeburn  had  come  back  again  to 
^ns  seat  next  to  the  Speaker,  who  was  his  oftieiaf  chief 
tvery  now  anil  then  the  Jlinister  turned  to'him,'and 


M  h. 


MMiCELLA. 


222 

Raeburn  liandod  1 

of  some  I'arliaiiu' 

was  to  (|uott'.      Marcel  la  watciluMl 

then  from  the  Oov 

the  House  to  Wharton  sitt 


lini  a  vol 


ntary  He  ,urn  whence  tl 


unie  of  Hansard  or  the  copy 


i<^  f,M'eat  man 
iWiwy  movement: 


ernm(!nt  bench  her  eye  sped  acr 


OSS 


\n^  once  more  buried  in  hi^ 


hat,  his  arms  folded  in  Iront  of  him.  A  little  shiver 
(^f  excitement  ran  throu-h  her.  The  two  men  upon 
whom  her  life  liad  so  far  turned  were  onc(.  more  in 
presence  of,  pitted  against,  each  other  —and  she,  once 
more,  looking  on ! 

When  the  Home  Secretary  sat  down,  the  House  was 
grownig  restive  with  thoughts  of  dinner,  and  a  general 
movement  liad  begun  -  when  it  was  seen  that  Bennett 
w.vs  up.  Again  men  who  had  gone  out  came  back,  and 
those  wlio  were  still  there  resigned  themselves.  Ken- 
nett  was  a  force  in  the  House,  a  man  always  listened 
to  and  universally  respected,  and  the  curiosity  felt  as 
to  the  relations  between  him  and  this  new  star  and 
would-be  leader  had  been  for  some  time  consider- 
able. 

When    Bennett   sat   down,  the   importance  of  the 
member  for  West  Brookshire,  both  in  the  House  and 
m  the  country,  had  risen  a  hundred  per  cent.     A  man 
who  over  a  great  part  of  the  north  was  in  labour  con- 
cerns the  unquestioned  master  of  many  legions,  and 
whose  political  position  had  hitherto  been  one  of  con- 
spicuous moderation,  even  to  his  own  hurt,  had  given 
AVharton  the  warmest  possible  backing;  had  endorsed 
Ins  proposals,  to  their  most  contentious  and  doubtful 
details,  and  in  a  few  generous  though  still  perhaps 
ambiguous  words  had  let  the  House  see  what  he  per- 
sonally thought  of  the  services  rendered  to  labour  as 


MAUCKLLA. 


223 


tlui  copy 
iciit  man 
)V(fment; 

(I    ('KM'OSS 

3(1  in  his 
e  shiver 
en  upon 
niori'  in 
Aw,  once 

)u,se  was 
genera] 
Hennett 
ick,  and 
i.  Hen- 
listened 
'■  felt  as 
tar  and 
jnsider- 

of  the 
ise  and 
A  man 
ur  con- 
ns, and 
of  con- 
.  given 
dorsed 
)ubtfn] 
erhaps 
le  per- 
tour  as 


a  whole  during  tlie  past  five  ye; 


scatt 
1 


•M-ed  group  (,!'  Labour  nieml 


firs,  and  to  the  weak  and 


»ers  in  particular,  sine 


n»  ,M,t,ra,,«.i,.o  I'aHian.ont,  l,y  the  y„„„f;.,,,l  brill 
man  besuh^  hini.  ^        ^^ 

Bennett  was  no  orator.     H. 
^led  by  the  traiiung  of  religious  d 


lant 


f'  was  a  plain  man.  enno- 


issent,  at  the  samr; 


an  im{)erfect  eduea- 


time  indifferently  served  often  bv 
Hon      T^nf  ^-v  •       ,.''*"  "-y  ""'  ""J'«''«cc  eauea- 

t.on.     But  the  very  snnplu-ity  and  homeliness  of  its 
expression  gave  additional  weight  to  this  first  avowal 
of  a  s  vong  conviction  that  the  time  had  come  when 
he  Labour  party  mnM  have  separateness  and  a  leader 
If  It  were  to  rise  out  of  insignificance;  to  this  frank 
ren.mc,ation  of  whatever  personal  claims  his  o.vn  Tst 
might  have  gwen  him  ;  and  to  the  promise  of  unoS 
fied  support  to  the  policy  of  the  younger  mnn   inl^th 
•ts  energetic  and  conciliatory  aspects.^    He  "h     w     ^t 
a  httle  not  unkindly  indignation,  if  one  may  be    1 1  J" 
the  phrase,  m  the  direction  of  Wilkins  -  who    n    he 
nndd  e  of  the  speech  abruptly  walked  out  -  ad      f    e 
he  sat  down,  the  close  attention,  the  looks,  the  cheeTs 
the  evident  excitement  of  the  men  sitting  about  him 
-amongst  whom  were  two-thirds  of  the  whole  Labour 

Hirtrtr  '^  ^^-^^--^— ^^  it  dear ;:  I 

House  that  the  speech  marked  an  epoch  not  only  in 

Wreer  of  Harry  Wharton,  but  in  tL  parliame  4 ^ 
history  of  the  great  industrial  movement 
The    white-bearded   bore  under  the  gallery,  whom 

U^i^nh.  pointed outtoMar^ 

.  u  >sided.     The  house  streamed  out  like  one  man.    Ben- 
n  tt,  exhausted  by  the  heat  and  the  effort,  mopped  hs 

•ow  with  his  red  handkerchief,  and.  in  the'  onsion 
of  latigue,  started  as  he  felt  a  touch  upon  his  am 


! 


S 


■■■I, 

t     ' 

t 


224 


MAHiJELLA. 


Whiirton  was  bcndiiij;  ovor  to  Iiim  _  |,(>rf(>(;tly  wliito 
with  a  lip  In.  in  vain  tried  to  steady. 

'•I  can't  thank  yon,"  he  said;"- I  shonld  make  a 
tool  of  njyseUV 

Heunett  nochU'd  pleasantly,  and  presently  both  were 
pressini,'  into  the  ()nt-<?oin.t,'  erowd,  avoiding  each  other 
with  the  ineradicable  instinct  of  the  Enj,dishinan. 

Wharton  did  not  reco-.-r  his  self-control  eom])letely 
till,  after  an  ord(>al  of  talk  and  handshaking  in  the 
lobby,  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  Ladies'  (Jallery.  Then 
in  a  Hash  he  found  himself  tilled  with  the  spirits, 
the  exhilaration,  of  a,  schoolboy.  This  wonderful  ex- 
perience behind  him!  — and  upstairs,  waiting  for  him, 
those  eyes,  that  face !  How  conid  he  get  her  to  him- 
self somehow  for  a  moment  — and  dispose  of  that 
Craven  girl '.' 

''Well!''  he  said  to  her  joyously,  as  she  turned 
round  in  the  (hirkness  of  the  Gallery. 

But  she  was  seized  with  sudden  shyness,  and  he  felt, 
rather  than  saw,  the  glow  of  pleasure  and  excitement 
■which  possessed  her. 

"I>on't  let's  talk  here,"  she  said.  "Can't  we  go 
out  ?     I  am  melted ! " 

"  Yes,  of  course  !  Come  on  to  the  terrace.  It's  a 
divine  evening,  and  we  shall  hnd  our  party  there. 
Well,  Miss  Craven,  were  you  interested  '/" 

Edith  smiled  demurely. 

''  I  thought  it  a  good  debate,"'  she  said. 

''Confound  these  Venturist  prigs  !  "  was  Wharton's 
inward  remark  as  he  led  the  way. 


)Otll  wore 
\wh  other 

lUlll. 

'inplotoly 
ig  in  tlio 
y.  TluMi 
3  si)irits, 
lerfiil  ex- 
for  hill), 
to  hiiii- 
!  of  that 

3  turned 

I  he  felt, 
3itement 

t  we  go 

It's  a 
y  there. 


larton's 


CUAVTVAi    IX. 

•How  enchanting!  ••n.-d  Maieolla,  as  thevemerger] 
.m  the  terra...,  an.l  riv(,r,  shore,  and  sky  open<.d  npon 
tl.om  ,n  all  th.  thousand-tinted  light  and  shade  ui  , 
sti  1  and  perfeet  evening.  "Oh,  how  hot  we  were- 
and  how  badly  you  treat  us  in  those  dens'  " 

Those  eonhdcnt  eyes  of  Wharton's  shone  as  they 
glanced  at  her.  -^ 

She  wore  a  pretty  white  dress  of  some  eotton  stuii 
-  It  seemed  to  him  he  remembered  it  of  old  _;,,nd  on 
the  waving  masses  of  hair  lay  a  little  bunch  of  black 
lace  that  called  itself  a  bonnet,  with  black  strinr^s  tie.] 
demurely  under  the  chin.     The  abundance  of  rdiarac- 
ter  and  dignity  in  the  beauty  which  yet  to-ni-^ht  was 
so  young  and  glowing -the  rich  arresting  note  of  the 
voice -the  inimitable  carriage  of  the  head -Whar- 
ton realised  them  all  at  the  moment  with  peculiar 
vividness,   because   he   felt  them   in    some    sort   as 
additions  to  his  own  personal  wealth.     To-ni-ht  she 
\\'as  in  his  power,  his  possession. 

The  terrace  was  full  of  people,  and  alive  with  a 
r.abel  of  talk.  Yet,  as  he  carried  his  companions 
forward  m  search  of  Mrs.  Lane,  he  saw  that  Marcella 
^was  instantly  marked.  Every  one  who  passed  them 
■  'r  made  way  for  them,  looked  and  looked  again, 
^ihe  girl,  absorbed  in  her  pleasant  or  agitating 
"apif^sions,  knew  nothing  of  her  own  effect.  She 
VOL  II. -15  225 


'I    i' 


!  fiji 


m 


2'2() 


MAliVKLLA. 


^vas  dnnk.ng  „.  tl.o  suns.t  11^1.1 -tl.o  ponti.  n.y.sf.v 
ol  tl.o  nver-tlie  lov.ly  lin.  „l  tin,  l.rulg(3^tl.e  assci- 
-a  .ons  of  tlu,  plueo  wh.ro  she  stood,  of  this  ^.vat 
lm.Mingoversha.hnvin,I.o...     Kvor,  now  and  then  slu, 
•suited  in  a  kind  ot  torror  lest  son.o  figure  in  the  dusk 
su,,,a,.  AIdousKaelnu.n;    then  when  a  str;:!;' 
showed  h.niselt  she  gave  herself  up  again  to  lun-youn.. 
phMsure  n,  the  crowd  and  the  spectacle.     But  Wh-tr^ 
ton  knew  that  she  was  observed;  Wharton  caught  the 
wh^por  that  Ibllowed  her.     Mis  vanity,  alrc^,dy  ^ 
well-te,l  this  evening,  took  the  attention  given  to  her 
us  so  mucli  fresh  homage  to  itself;  and  she  had  nior. 
and  more  glamour  for  him  in  the  reflected  light  ol 
this  publicity,  this  common  judgnunt 

"Ah  here  are  the  Lanes!"  he  said,  detecting  at 
last  a  short  lady  ,n  black  amid  a  group  of  men. 

A  arcel  a  and  Edith  were  introduced.  Then  Edith 
found  a  friend  in  a  young  London  member  who  was 
to  be  one  of  the  party,  and  strolled  off  with  liim  till 
dinner  should  be  announced. 

••!  ^vill  just  take  Miss  Boyce  to  the  end  of  th. 
en-aee,''  said  Wha -.on  to  Mr.Lane;  '^ve  shan't  get 
ai} thing  to  eat  yet  awhile.     What  a  crowd!     The 
Alrestords  not  come  yet,  I  see." 
Lane  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  he  looked  round 
'•  Kaeburn  has  a  [arty  to-night.     And  there  are  at 
eat  three  or   our  others  besides  ourselves.     I  should 
tliink  food  and  service  will  be  equally  scarce! » 

tilking  to  Mrs.  Lane,  and  had  heard  nothing 

''Let  me  just  show  you  the  terrace,"  he  said  to  her. 
:so  cliance  of  dinner  for  another  twenty  minutes  " 


MAIiCKLLA. 


227 


They  strolh  .1  i,u;.y  tcKctli.-r.  As  tlioy  niovod  ;i,l(.i.jr, 
a  number  of  men  Wiiylaid  tl.n  Hiu^ukcr  of  tla-  nij^rhi 
with  talk  and  congratulations  — glancing'  tlui  whiUrafc 
the  lady  on  his  hdt.  But  presently  they  were  away 
from  the  crowd  whi(di  hung  ahout  th(^  main  entrance 
to  the  terrace,  and  had  reached  the  comparatively 
MUiet  western  enrj,  when^  were  only  a  few  pairs  and 
^(roups  walking  up  and  down. 

"Shall  I  s..(.  Mr.  |{..nnett?"  she  asked  him  ea-erly 
as  they  paused  by  the  parapet,  looking  down  upon  f!,.' 
grey-brown  water  swishing  under  th,.  fast  incominir 
tide.     *M  want  to." 

'•I  usked  him  to  dine,  but  he  wouldn't.  Jle  has 
gone  to  a,  prayer-meeting  —  at  least  I  guess  so.  There 
IS  a  famous  American  evangelist  spealcing  in  \Vest- 
minster  to-night— I  am  as  certain  as  I  ever  am  <,( 
anything  that  Bennett  is  there-dini..g  on  Moody 
an.l  Sankey.  Men  are  a  medley,  don't  you  think?  — 
>So  you  liked  his  speenli?" 

*'How  coolly  you  ask'      she  said,  laughing.     "Did 
you?''  ^      " 

He  was  silent  a  moment,  his  smilin  .  gaze  fixed  on 
thp  -  ater.     Then  he  turned  to  her. 

•How  much  gratitude  do  you  think  I  owe  him?" 
•■  As  much  as  you  can  pay,"  sh(>  said  with  emphasis 
••  1  never  heard  anything  more  complete,  more  gen- 
erous." 

"  So  you  were  carried  away?  " 
She  looked  at  l>im  with  a  curious,  sudden  gravity  — 
a  touch  of  defiance. 

"No!  — neither  by  Idm,  nor  by  you.     Idon't  believe 
m  your  Bill  ^  and  I  am  mrt^yon  will  never 


fr 


carry  it 


f  » 


u:p. 


MARC  ELL  A, 

Wharton  lifted  his  eyebrows. 

"Perhaps  you'll  tell  mo  where  you  are,"  he  said, 
that  1  may  know  how  to  talk?     When  we  last  dis- 
cussed these  things  at  Mellor,  I  think -yon  were  a 
Socialist?  " 

"What  does  it  matter  what  I  was  last  year''"'  she 

asked  him  gaily,  yet  with  a  final  inflection  of  the  voice 

which  was  not  gay;  "1  was  a  baby!     JVoio  perhaps  I 

have  earned  a  few  poor,  little  opinions  -  but  they  are 

a  ragged  bundle -and  1  have  never  any  time  to  sort 
them." 

"Have  you  left  the  Venturists?" 

-No! -but  I  am  full  of  perplexities;  and  the 
(.ravens,  I  see,  will  soon  be  for  tnrning  me  out.  You 
understand  — T  know  some  working  folk  now!  " 

"So  you  did  last  year." 

''No!"  — she  insisted,  shaking  her  head  — ''that 
was  all  different.     But  now  I  am  m  their  world-  I 
live  witli  them  -  and  they  talk  to  me.     One  evenin<^ 
in  the  week  I  am  '  at  home  '  for  all  the  people  I  knoNv 
in  our  Buildings  — men  and  women.     Mrs    Hurd  — 
you   know  who  I   mean? "-her   brow  contracted  a 
moment -"she  comes  with  her  se;ving  to  keep  mo 
company;  so  does  Edith  Craven;  and  sometimes  th. 
little  room  is  packed.     The  men  smoke -when  w. 
can  have  the  windows  open!  — and  I  believe  I  shall 
soon  smoke  too  -  it  makes  them  talk  better.     We  got 
all  sorts  —  Socialists,  Conservatives,  Radicals  —  "  " 
And  you  don't  think  much  of  the  Socialists?'' 
"Well!  they  are  the  interesting,  dreamy  fellows  " 
she  said,  laughing,  "who  don't  save,  and  muddle  their 
lives.     And  as  for  argument,  the  Socialist  workman 


t 
i 
i 
i 


MA MCE LL A. 


229 


■   I 


he  said, 
!  last  dis- 
u  Avere  a 

ar?"  slip 
the  voire 
wrhaps  1 
they  are 
e  to  sort 


and  the 
It.     You 


— ''that 
orld  —  I 
even  in, <f 
I  know 
Hurd  — 
•acted  a 
:eej)  nio 
nies  tlic 
hen  we 
I  shall 
We  gf'1 

ilists'."" 
Hows," 
ie  their 
Drkmaii 


doesn't  care  twopence  for  facts —  that  don't  suit  him 
It's  superb  the  way  he  treats  them ! " 

"I  should  like  to  know  who  does  care! "  said  Wliar- 
ton,  with  a  shrug.  Then  he  turned  witli  his  back  to 
tlie  parapet,  the  better  to  command  her.  He  liad 
taken  off  his  hat  for  coolness,  and  tlie  wind  played 
witli  the  crisp  curls  of  hair.  "But  tell  me"  — lie 
went  on  — "who  has  been  tampering  witli  you?  Is 
It  Hallin?    You  told  me  you  saw  him  often  " 

"Perhaps.     But  wliat  if  it's  evevyt]nug?-livh,rj9 
-  saying  your  presence !     A  year  ago  at  any  rate  the 
world  was  all  black -or  white -to  me.     Xow  I  lie 
awake  at  night,  puzzling  my  head  about  the  shades 
between -which  makes  tlie  difference.     A  compul- 
sory Eight  Hours'  Day  for  all  men  in  all  trades'" 
Her  note   of  scorn  startled  him.     "You  knoiv  you 
;vont  get  it!     And  all  the  other  big   exasperatli.- 
things  you  talk  about  -  public  organisation  of  laboui" 
and  the  rest -you  won't  get  them  till  all  the  worhl 
IS  a  New  Jerusalem -and  when  the  world  is  a  Xew 
I         Jerusalem  nobody  will  want  them !  " 
I  ^Vharton  made  her  an  ironical  bow. 

I  "Nicely  said! -though  we  have  heard  it  before 

Upon  my  Avord,  you  have  marched! -or  Edward 
Hallin  has  carried  you.  So  now  you  think  the  poor 
arc  as  well  off  as  possible,  in  the  best  of  all  possible 
worlds -IS  that  the  result  of  your  nursing?  You 
;         llJI^^e  with  Denny,  in  fact?  the  man  who  got  up  after 

His  tone  annoyed  her.     Then  suddenly  the  name 
^         suogested    to    her    a    recollection     that    brought    a 
II  own.  "~ 


li-i 


230 


MARCELLA. 


I 


'!  :% 


li 


li 


I  Mij: 


''That  was  the  man,  then,  you  attacked  in  the 
Clarion  this  morning! " 

"Ah!  you  read  me!"  said  Wharton,  with  sudden 
pleasure.  "Yes  — that  opened  the  campaign.  As 
you  know,  of  course,  Craven  has  gone  down,  and  the 
strike  begins  next  week.  Soon  we  shall  bring  two 
batteries  to  bear,  he  letting  fly  as  correspondent,  and 
1  from  the  office.     I  enjoyed  writing  that  article." 

"So  I  should  think,"  she  said  drily;  "all  I  know- 
is,  it  made  one  reader  passionately  certain  that  tlieiv 
was  another  side  to  the  matter!  There  may  not  be. 
I  dare  say  there  isn't;  but  on  me  at  least  that  was  the 
effect.  Why  is  it "  —  she  broke  out  with  vehemence 
—  "  that  not  a  single  Labour  paper  is  ever  capable  ol 
the  simplest  justice  to  an  opponent?" 

"You  think  any  other  sort  of  paper  is  any  better?" 
he  asked  her  scornfully. 

''I  dare  say  not.  But  that  doesn't  matter  to  me!  it 
is  ive  who  talk  of  justice,  of  respect,  and  sympathy 
from  man  to  man,  and  then  we  go  and  blacken  the 
men  who  don't  agree  with  us  — whole  classes,  that  is 
to  say,  of  our  fellow-countrymen,  not  in  the  old  honest 
slashing  style,  Tartuffes  that  we  are!  — but  with  all 
the  delicate  methods  of  a  new  art  of  slander,  pursued 
almost  for  its  own  sake.  We  know  so  much  better  — 
always  — than  our  opponents,  we  hardly  condescend 
even  to  be  angry.  One  is  only  'sorry '  —  'obliged  to 
punish  '  —  like  the  priggish  governess  of  one's  child- 
hood!" 

In  spite  of  himself,  Wharton  flushed. 
"  My  best  thanks !  "  he  said.     "  Anything  more?     1 
prefer  to  take  my  drubbing  all  at  once." 


!.  ■  ;l  III 


MAltCELLA. 


231 


d  in  the 

li  sudden 
ign.  As 
,  and  the 
ring  two 
lent,  ami 
icle." 
1  I  know 
lat  there 
Y  not  be. 
b  was  the 
hemenee 
ipable  ol 

better?" 

0  me !  it 
empathy 
3ken  tlie 
3,  that  is 
d  honest 
with  all 
pursued 
setter  — 
idescenil 
iliged  to 
's  chihl- 


lore '.'     1 


She  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"  Why  did  you  write,  or  allow  that  article  on  the 
West  Brookshire  landlords  two  days  ago?" 

Wharton  started. 

"Well!  wasn't  it  true?" 

"No!"  she  said  with  a  curling  lip;  "and  I  think 
you  know  it  wasn't  true." 

"What!  as  to  the  Raeburns?  Upon  my  word,  I 
should  have  imagined,"  he  said  slowly,  "that  it  repre- 
sented your  views  at  one  time  with  tolerable  accuracy." 

Her  nerve  suddenly  deserted  her.  She  bent  over 
the  parapet,  and,  taking  up  a  tiny  stone  that  lay  near, 
she  threw  it  unsteadily  into  the  river.  He  saw  the 
hand  shake. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  turning  round  so  that  he  too 
leant  over  the  river,  his  arms  on  the  parapet,  liis 
voice  close  to  her  ear.  "Are  you  always  going  to 
quarrel  with  me  like  this?  Don't  you  knov  that 
there  is  no  one  in  the  world  I  would  sooner  please 
if  I  could?" 

She  did  not  speak. 

"In  the  first  place,"  he  said,  laughing,  "as  to  my 
speech,  do  you  suppose  that  I  believe  in  that  Bill 
which  I  described  just  now?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said  indignantly,  once  more 
playing  with  the  stones  on  the  wall.  "It  sounded 
like  it." 

"That  is  my  gift  — my  little  carillon,  as  Kenan 
would  say.  But  do  you  imagine  I  want  you  or  any 
one  else  to  tell  me  that  we  shan't  get  such  a  Bill  for 
g?nerations?     Of  course  we  shan't!  " 

"Then  why  do  you  make  fanical  speeches,  bam- 


i  i 


h 


232 


> .  1 


MATiCELLA. 


clIZsP^  fHenas  anU  n.sleaUi.,  the  House  of 

Ho  saw  the  old  stonn-signs  with  glee -the  lidit- 
""^^^  m  tlie  eye,  the  rose  on  the  cheek      SI.p  Zl 
so  liPiMfift,!  1         ,        "'"^at^eK,     oiie  was  never 

so^beautiful  as  when  she  was  angry 

lo.  11.^  Illusions  m  my  own  way -«<,«,  it  seems  1,-  „ 
Siren  up  voura  >  "  seems,  Ji.n  e 


gu-en  up  yours!" 

concerttll-n:      '"^'  """'■^  '^"°""  "■'-"  "  ^'«>»  ^i- 

"Von  mock  me?"  he  sdd  quickly -"tMnk  me  in 
sincere,  unscmpuIous'  —  AVplI    t  i'  ™™^  "le  in- 

Have  no  rigUt'to  i  oek  1  S  'tT"''  ''■'''°" 
again,  you  promised  me  g^^lo^  Kow'VT'"  ""' 
to  paying-and  I  claim!  "  "  '""  ™""-' 

His  low  distinct  voi^>e  in  l.Pr  on.,  i     i 
effect  upon  Hei-.     .,.  sL;;;^:.::^!  ^CT MiT 
overcome    by  — yet   fio-],fin  ,•    ..     •     /"^^  ^"^^^  ^o  ^^n". 
c.i,«  '1  "^       "opting    against  — men>orv       If 


MARCEL  LA. 


233 


!   i 


probaWy  lost  tliis  lu.lrl  upon  her  on  the  spot.  But  liis 
ta(;t  was  porfe(;t.  Slu,  saw  nothing  but  a  look  ol 
dignity  and  friendship,  which  bnnight  upon  hev  with 
a  rush  all  those  tragi.;  things  they  had  shared  and 
fought  through,  puril'ying  things  of  pity  and  fear 
winch  had  so  often  seenuul  to  her  the  atonement  for' 
the  washing  away  of  that  old  baseness. 

He  saw  her  face  tremble  a  little.     Then  she  said 
proudl_v  — 
"  I  promised  to  be  grateful.     So  I  am." 
''No,  no!"    he  said,  still   in   the  same  low  tone 
\  ou  promised  me  a  friend.     AVhere  is  she?  " 
Slie   made  no  answer.     Her  hands  were   han<.in- 
loosely  over  the  water,  and  her  eves  were  fixed  on'the 
haze  opposite,  whence  emerged  the  blocks  of  the  great 
hospital   and   the  twinkling   points   of   innumerable 
lamps.     But  Ins  gaze  compelled  her  at  last,  and  she 
turned  back   to   him.     He   saw   an   expression   half 
iiostile,  half  moved,  and  pressed  on  before  she  could 
speak. 

"Why  do  you  bury  yourself  in  that  nursino-  Hfe'^" 
he  saul  drily.  "  It  is  not  the  life  for  you  j  it  does  not 
fit  you  in  the  least." 

"  You  test  your  friends !  "  she  cried,  her  clieek  fiam- 
ing  again  at  the  provocative  change  of  voice.  '•  What 
possible  right  have  you  to  that  remark?  " 

"I  know  you,  and  1  know  the  causes  you  want  to 
serve.  You  can't  serve  them  where  vou  are.  Nurs- 
ing is  not  for  you;  you  are  wanted  among  vour  own 
e'lass-- among  your  equals -among  the  people  who 
uye  changing  and  shaping  England.  It  is  absurd. 
1  uu  iiiv  nias(][uerading.  *' 


I      M    f 


i 

f  > 


('-  !. 


234 


MARCELLA. 


V'vi 


'  Ml 


Mt 


She  gave  liiin  a  little  sarcastic  nod. 
"Thank  you.     1  am  doing  a  little  honest  work  for 
the  first  time  in  my  life." 

He  laughed.  It  was  impossible  to  tell  whetlier  he- 
was  serious  or  jtosing. 

"You  are  just  what  you  were  in  one  respect  — 
terribly  in  the  right!  Be  a  little  humble  to-night  for 
a  change.  Come,  condescend  to  the  classes  !  l)o  you 
see  Mr.  Lane  callimr  us  ^  " 

And,  in  fact,  Mr.  Lane,  with  his  arm  in  the  air,  was 
eagerly  beckoning  to  them  from  the  distance. 

"Do  you  know  Lady  Selina  Farrell  ? "  he  asked 
her,  as  they  walked  quickly  back  to  the  dispersing 
crowd.  ° 

"  No ;  who  is  she  ?  " 

Wharton  laughed. 

"Providence  should  contrive  to  let  Lady  Selina 
overhear  that  question  once  a  week  — in  your  tone' 
AVell,  she  is  a  personage  —  Lord  Alresford's  daughter 

—  unmarried,  rich,  has  a   salon,  or   thinks   she   has 

—  manipulates  a  great  many  people's  fortunes  and 
lives,  or  thinks  she  does,  which,  after  all,  is  what 
matters  — to  Lady  Selina.  She  wants  to  know  you, 
bad^  Do  you  think  you  can  be  kind  to  her  ?  There 
she  i,— you  will  let  me  introduce  you?  She  dines 
with  us." 

In  another  moment  Marcella  had  been  introduce,] 
to  a  tall,  fair  lady  in  a  very  fashionable  black  an.l 
pmk  bonnet,  who  held  out  a  gracious  hand. 

"  I  liave  heard  so  much  of  you  !"  said  Lady  Selina 
as  they  walked  along  the  passage  to  the  dining-rooii. 
"  ^'^  "^"st  be  so  wonderful,  your  nursing  !  • 


together 


MARCELLA. 


235 


work  for 

etlier  lie 

aspect  — 

light  for 

Do  you 

air,  was 

e   asked 
sperslny 


■  Selina 
r  tone ! 
aughtei- 
ihe  has 
les  and 
is  Avhat 
iw  you, 
There 
B  dines 

•odueed 
ck  and 

Selina, 
g-rooiii 

sing!"' 


Marcella  laughed  rather  restively. 
"No,  I  don't  think  it  is,"  she  said;  "there  are  so 
many  of  us." 

"  Oh,  but  the  things  you  do  —  Mr.  Wharton  told 
me  —  so  interesting !  " 

Marcella  said  nothing,  and  as  to  her  looks  the 
passage  was  dark.  Lady  Selina  thought  her  a  very 
handsome  but  very  gauche  young  woman.  Still, 
(jauche  or  no,  she  had  thrown  over  Aldous  liaeburn 
and  thirty  tiiousand  a  year;  an  act  which,  as  Lady 
Selina  admitted,  put  you  out  of  the  common  run. 

"Do  you  know  most  of  the  people  dining?"  she 
enquired  in  her  blandest  voice.  "But  no  doubt  you 
do.  You  are  a  great  friend  of  Mr.  Wharton's  1 
think  ?  " 

"  He  stayed  at  our  house  last  year,"  said  Marcella, 
abruptly.     "  No,  1  don't  know  anybody." 

"Then  shall  1  tell  you  ?  It  makes  it  more  interest- 
ing, doesn't  it?  It  ought  to  be  a  pleasant  little 
party." 

And  tlie  great  lady  lightly  ran  over  the  names.  It 
seemed  to  Marcella  that  most  of  them  were  very 
"smart"  or  very  important.  Some  of  the  smart 
names  were  vaguely  known  to  her  from  Miss  Rae- 
burn's  talk  of  last  year ;  and,  besides,  there  were  a 
couple  of  Tory  Cabinet  ministers  and  two  or  three 
prominent  members.  It  was  all  rather  surprising. 
^  At  dinner  she  found  herself  between  one  of  the 
Cabinet  ministers  and  the  young  and  good-looking 
private  secretary  of  the  other.  Both  men  were  agree- 
able, and  very  willing,  besides,  to  take  trouble  with 
this  unknown  beauty.     The  minister,  who  knew  the 


'i   ( 


•  ■n 


ii36 


MAliCKLLA. 


Kaeburns  very  woU,  ,va.s  discussing  witli  himself  all 
ot  tJut  story.  Jfis  suspuMon  an.l  (niriosity  were  -it 
iiiuou  pains  to  draw  lier  out. 

Her  ow„  (conversation,   however,    was    mu,.],   ,ii, 
.•»<•  e,I  by  the  attention  she  e„,.l,,  .'.ot  he],    "  '„,      ," 
I|er  ),ost  and  l,is  surronncUnss.     AVI.arton'  li    ,  Ud 

111(1  ot  tljH  table  sat  JHrs.  Lane,  doin.'  1,,-r  d„fv  .„ 
.iiodieally  t„  Lord  Alresford,  wi'.o  stii1,  \    fuL^U 

and  possdde  prenuer.     Ijnt   tin,  tulk,  on  the  who 
was  generaI-„  ,,a.y  .and   careless   ive-a    Uak     ',' 
pa..l,an.entary,  social,  and  racing  gossip,  tl,     b  H  «: 
■lis  front  one  ueenstonu-d  han,l  to  .another  ^ 

„fwt  /'"■"'■"'"'"'"''  ""'  S«'over  the  astonislunent 
f  Wharton  s  part  n,  it.  She  shut  her  eyes  sometin^es 
oYu,  instant  and  tried  to  see  Inn,  as  her  ^ZtZt 
liad  seen  I„„,  at  Mellor-the  solitary,  ecci^tric  fit 2 
PU-ued  by  the  hatreds  of  a  renounce.  Putri  1  .ate - 
bn„,.n,,  the  enndty  of  his  own  order  as  a  pledge  and 
oitern,.  to  the  Plebs  he  asked  to  lead.     AVhe  ^  eve 

.    Aew  na.ket;  d.scnss.on  with  L,uly  Selina  or  with 
hi     eft  Inand  ne.ghbonr  „r  connfyd,o„se  "sets." 
a  IMtter  of  n.an,es  whic],  sonnded  in  her  seornfnl  ear 

Ike  a  par.agraph  fron,  the  WorW ;  .above  all.  a    e  Ira 
a  1-  ot  easy  con,radeship.  which  no  one  at    Ids  taUe 
a  any  rate,  seen.ed  n.el.ned  to  dispute,  with    very     ■' 
elus.veness  and  every  amusement  „f  ihe  "idle  rfeh  ' 


MARC  ELL. 


237 


imself  all 

ss  Boyeo 

were  at 

5  Iiimself 

uch   dis- 

ad  Lady 
iguished 
he  other 
ity  ,sp:is- 
'lind  old 
iitesmaii 
'  wiiolc, 
take   of 
ball  fly- 

shmeiit 
letiiiies 
5  fancy 
'  figure 
uate  — 
ge  and 
■e  even 
ot  and 
r  with 
"  with 
111  ear 
eneral 
table, 
ry  ex- 
rich," 


n-horeof— in   the    popular  idoa~h,.  was  held  to  l,e 
one  of  the  very  particular  foes  !  — 

Xo  doubt,  as  the  dinner  moved  on,  this  first  impres- 
sion changed  somewhat.     She    began    to   distinguisli 
notes  that  had  at  first  been  lost  upon  her.     She  caught 
the  mocking,  ambiguous  tone  under  which  she  hersfdl' 
had  so  often  fumed;  she  watched  the  occasional  recoil 
of  the  wojnen  about   him,  as   though  they  had  been 
playing  with  some  soft-pawed  animal,  anil  had  been 
suddenly  startled  by  the  gleam  of  its  claws.     These 
things   puzzled,  partly  propitiated    her.     But  on   the 
whole  she  was  restless  and  hostile.     }hm  was  it  pos- 
sible—from such  personal  tem])orising_such  a  frit- 
tering of   the    forces   and   sympathies  — to   win    the 
single-mindedness  and  the   power  without  which  n,. 
great  career  is  builfc  ?     She  wanted  to  talk  with  him  — 
reproach  him  ! 

"  Well  —  I  must  go  —  worse  luck,"  said  Wharton  at 
last,  laying  down  his  napkin  and  rising.  "  Lane,  Avill 
you  take  charge  ?     I  will  join  you  outside  later."' 

"If  he  ever  finds  us!"  said  her  neighbour  to  Mar- 
cella.  '•  I  never  saw  the  place  so  crowded.  It  is  odd 
how  people  enjoy  these  scrambling  meals  in  these 
\'OYy  ugly  rooms." 

Marcella,  smiling,  looked  down  with  him  over  the 
bare  coffee-tavern  place,  in  which  their  party  occupied 
a  sort  of  high  table  across  the  end,  while  two  other 
small  gatherings  were  accommodated  in  the  space 
l)elow. 

'•  Are  there  any  other  rooms  than  this  ?  "  she  asked 

Idly. 

■•One  more,"  sai.l  a  young  man  across  the  table,  who 


238 


MAIiCELLA. 


''h 


A 


had  boon  introducoil  to  hor  in  the  dusk  outside,  and 
liad  not  y«a  succocMlod  in  Kitting  lior  to  look  at  liini,  as 
ho  doaircd.  "  Hut  thoro  is  anotlior  big  party  thoro  to- 
night— Raeburn  —  you  know,"  Ju;  wont  on  innocently, 
addressing  the  minister;  "ho  has  got  the  Winter 
bournes  and  the  Macdonalds —quite  a  gathering  — 
rather  an  unusual  thing  for  him." 

The  minister  glanced  quickly  at  his  companion. 
But  she  had  turned  to  answer  a  question  from  Lady 
Selina,  and  thenceforward,  till  the  i)arty  rose,  she  gave 
him  little  op])ortunity  ol'  oljserving  her. 

As  the  outward-moving  stream  of  guests  was  onco 
more  in  the  corridor  leading  to  the  terrace,  Marcella 
hurriedly  made  her  way  to  Mrs.  Lane. 

"I  think,"  she  said  — "1  am  afraid  — we  ought  to 
be  going— my  friend  and  I.  Perhaps  Mr.  Lane  — 
perhaps  he  would  just  show  us  the  way  out;  we  can 
easily  find  a  cab." 

There  was  an  imploring,  urgent  look  in  her  face 
which:  htruck  Mrs.  Lane.  But  Mr.  Lane's  loud  friendly 
voice  broke  in  from  behind. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Boyce  !  —  we  can't  possibly  allow  it 
—  no!  no— just  half  an  hour  — while  they  bring  us 
our  coffee  — to  do  your  homage,  you  know,  to  the  ter- 
race—  and  the  river  —  and  the  moon  !  —  And  then  — 
if  you  don't  want  to  go  back  to  the  House  for  the 
division,  we  will  see  you  safely  into  your  cab. 
Look  at  the  moon  !  —  and  the  tide  "  —  they  had  come 
to  the  wide  door  opening  on  the  terrace  —  "aren't  they 
doing  their  very  best  for  you  ?  " 

Marcella  looked  behind  her  in  despair.  Wlio'p. 
was  Edith?     Far  in  the  rear!  — and  fully  occupied 


MAIWELLA, 


230 


npparently  with  two  or  tlireo  ijleasant-  companions. 
Siio  could  not  help  luM'sclf.  Slie  was  carried  on,  with 
Mr.  Lane  chatting'  beside  her  — though  the  sight  of 
the  shining  t(u-race,  with  its  moonlit  crowil  of  figures, 
breathed  into  her  a  terror  and  pain  she  could  hardly 
control. 

"Come  and  look  at  the  water,"  she  said  to  Mr. 
Lane;  "I  would  rather  not  walk  up  and  down  if  you 
don't  mind.'" 

lie  thought  she  was  tired,  and  politely  led  her 
through  the  sitting  or  promenading  groups  till  once 
more  she  was  leaning  over  the  parapet,  now  trying  to 
talk,  now  to  absorb  herself  in  the  magic  of  bridge, 
river,  and  sky,  but  in  reality  listtsning  all  the  time 
with  a  shrinking  heart  for  the  voices  and  the  footfalls 
that  she  dreaded.  Lady  Winterbourne,  above  all  I 
How  unlucky  !  It  was  only  that  morning  that  siio 
had  received  a  forwarded  letter  from  that  old  friend, 
asking  urgently  for  news  and  her  address. 

'•  vVell,  how  did  you  like  the  speech  to-night  — //«« 
speech?"  said  Mr.  Lane,  a  genial  Gladstonuin  mem- 
ber, more  heavily  weighted  with  estates  than  with 
ideas.  "It  was  splendid,  wasn't  it?  — in  the  way 
of  speaking.  Speeches  like  that  ar.'  a  safety-valve  — 
that's  my  view  of  it.     Have  'em  out  — all  these  ideas 

—  get  'em  discussed! "  —  with  a  good-humoured  shake 
of  the  head  for  emphasis.  '•  Does  nobody  any  harm 
and  may  do  good.  I  can  tell  you,  Miss  Boyce,  the 
House  of  Commons  is  a  capital  place  for  taming  these 
clever  young  men  !  — you  must  give  them  their  head 

-  and  they  make  excellent  fellows  after  a  bit.     A\'hy 

—  who's  this  ?  —  ^fy  df-'ir  Lady  Winterbourne  !  —  this 
i^  a  sight  for  sair  cen  1  " 


i       ! 


?    \ 


,1    i  ' 


i 


240 


^tMiCKlhA. 


11 


■:  i  i!i 


An.l  th..  portly  „M.n,l».r  with  .^r,,,i|,  Hf„si„r,  ..m-;,s, 

Mh'  h.-nM]  of  ....  statHy  huly  in  hlnrk,  whose  ahtnulani 
H'liitf  hail' cau^^'ht  the  mooiiIiLflit. 
"  '^f">-<'f'ff'i!"  cried  a  woman's  voico. 
Vcs-tluM-o  ho  was! -Hose  behind  Ladv  Wint-r- 
»'<""-iH'.      In  the  .soa  darkness  ho  an.l  his  .nrty  h.d 
>"'.  upon  the  two  jK-rsons  talkin^.  over  the  wall  with 
out  an  idea— -a  sns|)ieion. 

She.  hurriedly  withdrew  herself  fron.   Lady  Winh-r 
lK>urne   hesitated  a  seeond,  then  held  out  her  hand  to 
hnn      Jhehshtwas  behind  hin,.     Sh.>  eo.dd  not  see 
his  laco  in  the  .larkness;  Init  she  was  suddenly  and 
stran^'(.ly  conscious  of  the  whole  .scene  -of  the  cr,,.at 
'l^trk  buildin;,  with  its  lines  of  fairydit  ,..thic  windows 
-  the  l,Iue  Kulf  of  the  river  crossed  by  lines  of  wav- 
rnn^M„d.t-the  swift  passa^^e  of  a  steamer  with  it^ 
Illuminated  saloon  and  crowded  deck  — of  the  wonder 
iul  mixture  of  moonlij^ht  and  sunset  in  the  air  and 
sky  — of  this  dark  fic,aire  in  front  of  her 

Their  liands  touched.  Was  there  a  murmured  word 
from  him  ?  She  did  not  know ;  she  was  too  agitated, 
too  unhappy  to  hear  it  if  there  was.  She  threw  her- 
self upon  Lady  Winterbourne.  in  whom  she  divine! 
at  oneo  a  tremor  ahnost  eriual  to  her  own 

t.lk?''  '^'.r?  ""''^\  "^^— '"^  away!-T  want  to 
talk  to  you!"  she  said  incoherently  under  her  breath 
drawing  Lady  Winterbourne  with  a  strong  hand  " 

Lady  Winterbou,-ne  yielded,  bewildered,  and"  tlun- 
moved  along  the  terrace. 

^to  think  of  hndmg  >ion  hero!     How  nstonishiir^- 
how-  how  dreadful !     No !  - 1  don't  mean  that.  ^Of 


MAUVE  I.  LA. 


241 


course  you  and  li«'  iiuist,  inoct hut  it 


(lay  \n'  told  nu'  lie  had 
and  it  lmvi*  me  ji  turi 


was 


oidy 


VCSttM- 


ii('v<'i'  seen  you  a^ain  —  siik  c  — 
was  very  loolish   j,iHt  now 


■stay  here  a  moment  —  and  tell  me  aix,  ii 


Tlicrc!  now 
yourself." 

And  again  they  paused  hy  the  river,  the  girl  ,r|j„„.. 
II  ing  nervously  behind  her  as  though  sh,^  wenr,,,  a 
«'<)ini.any  of  ghosts.  Lady  VVinterhourne  recovered 
iH'rself,  and  Marcella,  looking  at  her,  saw  the  old 
tragie  S(!verity  of  feature  and  mien  hlurred  witi,  H,,' 
same  softness,  Die  same  chdieate  tremor.  Ma-e^-P;. 
'•lung  to  her  with  almost  a  dau-hter's  feeling!  ishi' 
took  ip  ti,o  white  wrinkled  hand  as  it  lav  on  the 
par.  pm;,  and  Uis.sed  it  in  the  dark  so  that  no" one  saw. 
•'/  o>H  gla,<i  to  see  you  again,"  she  said  passionately! 

Lady  Wintrrl)ournn  was  surprised  and  moved. 

"  Hut  you  i.avo  never  written  all  these  months,  you 
unkind  ehild!  And  T  have  heard  so  little  of  you — 
your  mother  nevtn-  seemed  to  know.  When  will  you 
come  and  see  me— or  shall  I  come  to  you?  I  can't 
stay  now,  for  we  were  just  going;  my  daughter, 
Kiiayntrude  Welwyn,  lias  to  take  some  one  to  a  hall. 
Kow  .s^m»f/e"— she  l)rokeoff--«how  very  strange  that 
you  and  he  should  have  met  to-night !  He  goes^otf  to 
Italy  to-morro\f,  you  know,  with  Lord  Maxwell." 
^^  "Ves,  T  had  heard."  said  :\Larcella,  more  steadily.. 
"Will  you  eome  to  tea  with  me  next  week?'— Oh,  T 
will  write.  — And  we  must  go  too  — where  mn  n'ly 
friend  bt-  ?  " 

She  looked  round  in  dismay,  and  up  and  down  the 
terrace  for  Edith. 
VOL.  n.  — 16 


11 


i 


i 


242 


MARC  ELL  A. 


"  I  will  take  you  back  to  the  Lanes,  anyway,"  said 
Lady  Wiiiterbourne ;  "  or  shall  we  look  after  you  ?  " 

''  No !  no !     Take  me  back  to  the  Lanes." 

"Mamma,  are  you  coming?"  said  a  voice  like  a 
softened  version  of  Lady  AVinterbourne's.  Then  some- 
thing small  and  thin  ran  forward,  and  a  girl's  voice 
said  piteously  : 

''Dear  Lady  Winterbourne,  my  frock  and  my  hair 
take  so  long  to  do !  T  shall  be  cross  with  my  maid, 
and  look  like  a  fiend.  Ermyntrude  will  be  sorry  she 
ever  knew  me.     Do  come  !  " 

"  Don't  cry,  Betty.  I  certainly  shan't  take  you  if 
you  do ! "said  Lady  P:rniyntrude,  laughing.  " aMamma, 
is  this  Miss  Boyce  — your  Miss  Boyce  ?  " 

She  and  Marcella  shook  hands,  and  they  talked  a 
little.  Lady  Ermyntrude  under  cover  of  the  darkness 
looking  hard  and  curiously  at  the  tall  stranger  whom, 
as  it  happened,  she  had  never  seen  before.  Marcella 
had  little  notion  of  what  she  was  saying.  She  was 
far  more  conscious  of  the  girlish  form  hanging  on  Lady 
Winterbaurne's  arm  than  she  was  of  her  own  words,  of 
"  Betty's  "  beautiful  soft  eyes  —  also  shyly  and  gravely 
fixed  upon  herself  — under  that  marvellous  cloud  ,]f 
fair  hair;  the  long,  pointed  chin;  the  whimsical  little 
face. 

"Well,  none  of  you  are  any  good!*'  said  l^etty  at 
last,  in  a  tragic  voice.  "  I  shall  have  to  walk  home 
my  own  poor  little  self,  and  'ask  a  p'leeceman.'  iMr. 
Kaeburn ! " 

lie  disengaged  himself  from  a  group   behind  and 
came  —  with  no  alacrity.     Betty  ran  up  to  him. 
'■Mr.    Baeburn!     Ermyntrude   and   Lady   Winter- 


MARCELLA. 


243 


\ 


bourne   are    going   to  sleep  here,  if  you  don't  mind 
making  arrangements.     But  /  want  a  hansom." 

At  that  very  moment  Mareella  caught  sight  of  Edith 
strolling  along  towards  her  with  a  couple  of  members, 
and  chatting  as  though  the  world  had  never  rolled' 
more  evenly. 

"Oh!  there  she  is  — there  is  my  f.iend!"  cried 
Marcella  to  Lady  VVinterbourne.  ''Good-night  — 
good-night ! " 

She  was  hurrying  off  when  she  saw  Aldous  Raeburn 
was  standing  alone  a  moment.  The  exasperated  Betty 
had  made  a  dart  from  his  side  to ''collect "  another 
straying  member  of  the  jxirty. 

An  impulse  she  could  not  master  scattered  her 
wretched  discomfort  -  even  I  ^r  chaving  sense  of  bein- 
the  observed  of  many  eyes.     She  walked  up  to  .am.  " 

''Will  you  tell  me  about  Lord  Maxwell  ?  "  she  said 
in  a  tremulous  hurry.  ''  I  am  so  sorry  he  is  ill  —  J 
hadn't  heard  —  I  —  " 

She  dared  not  look  up.     Was  that  his  voice  answer- 


ing 


"Thank  you.  We  have  been  very  anxious  about 
him ;  but  the  doctors  to-day  give  a  rather  better  report. 
We  take  him  abroad  to-morrow." 

"Marcella!  at  last!"  cried  Edith  Craven,  catchino- 
hold  of  her  friend ;  "  you  lost  me  ?  Oh,  nonsense  ;  it 
was  all  the  other  way.  But  look,  there  is  .Mr.  Wharton 
'"ining  out.  I  must  go  —  come  and  say  good-night  — 
everybody  is  departing." 

Aldous  Baeburn  lifred  his  hat.  Marcella  felt  a 
sudden  rush  of  humiliation -pain -sore  resentment, 
lluit  cold,  strange  tone  — those  unwilling  words!  — 


i... 


A 


244 


MARCELLA. 


She   had  gone  up  to  him  — as   undiscipliiu'd  in  her 
repentance  as  she  had  been  in  aggression  — full  of  a 
passionate  yearning  to  make    friends  —  somehow   to 
convey  to  him  that  she  ''was  sorry,"  in  the  old  child's 
phrase  which  her  self-willed  childhood  had  used  so 
little.     There  could  be  no  misunderstanding  possible  .' 
He  of  all  men  knew  best  how  irrevocable  it  all  was. 
But  why,  when  life  has  brought  reflection,  and  you 
realise  at  last  that  you  have  vitally  hurt,    perhaps 
maimed,  another  human  being,  should  it  not  be  pos- 
sible to  fling  conventions  aside,  and  go  to  that  human 
being  with  the   frank   confession  which  by   all   the 
promises  of  ethics  and  religion  ought  to  bring  peace  — 
peace  and  a  soothed  conscience  ? 

Kut  she  had  been  repulsed  — put  aside,  so  she  took 
it  —  and  by  one  of  the  kindest  and  most  generous  of 
men  !     She  moved  along  the  terrace  in  a  maze,  seeing 
nothing,  biting  her  lip  to  keep  back  the  angry  tears! 
All  that  obscure  need,  that  new  stirring  of  moral  life, 
Avithin  her  — which  had  found  issue  in  this  little  futile 
advance  towards  a  man  who  had  once  loved  her  and 
could  now,  it  seemed,  only  despise  and  dislike  her  — 
was  beating  and  swelling  stormlike  within  her.     She 
had  taken  being  loved  so  easily,  so  much  as  a  matter 
of  course  !     How  was  it  that  it  hurt  her  now  so  nnicli 
to  have  lost  love,  and  power,  and  consideration  ?    She 
had  never  felt  any  passion  for  Aldous  Ilaeburn  —  harl 
taken  him  lightly  and  shaken  hin    ,ff  with  a  mininuun 
of  remorse.     Yet  to-night  a  few  rold  words  from  him 
—  the  proud  manner  of  a  moment  — had  inflicted  a 
smart   upon    her  she  could  hardly  bear.     They  had 
made  her  feel  herself  so  alone,  unhappy,  uncared  for : 


'i.  B  i     i 


MARCELLA. 


24n 


»      j! 


r  H 


d  in  her 
full  of  a 
ehow  to 
d  child's 

used  so 
possible  I 

all  was. 
and  you 

perhajis 

be  pos- 
i  human 

all   tlu! 
l)eaee  — 

5he  took 
erous  of 
;,  seeing 
•y  tears. 
)ral  life 
le  futil(! 
her  and 
3  her  — 

T.       Sh(> 

matter 
50  nmch 
I?  8he 
1  —  had 
ininmni 
)ni  him 
icted  a 
ey  had 
ed  for ! 


But,  on  the  contrary,  she  must  be  happy!  —  must  be 
loved !  To  this,  and  this  only,  had  she  been  brought 
by  the  hard  experience  of  this  strenuous  year. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Lane,  be  an  angel !"  ex(daimed  Wharton's 
voice.  ''Just  one  turn  —  five  minutes!  The  division 
will  be  called  directly,  and  then  we  will  all  thank  our 
stars  and  go  to  bed  ! " 

In  another  instant  he  was  at  :Marcella's  side,  bare- 
headed, radiant,  reckless  even,  as  he  was  wont  to  be  in 
moments  of  excitement.  He  had  seen  her  speak  to 
Raeburn  as  he  came  out  on  the  terrace,  but  his  mind 
was  too  full  for  any  perception  of  other  people's  situa- 
tions— even  hers.  -He  Avas  absorbed  with  himself,  and 
with  her,  as  she  fitted  his  present  need.  The  smile  of 
satisfied  vanity,  of  stimulated  ambition,  was  on  his  lips; 
and  his  good-humour  inclined  him  more  than  ever  to 
Marcella,  and  the  pleasure  of  a  woman's  company.  He 
passed  Avith  ease  from  triumph  to  homage;  his  talk 
now  audacious,  now  confiding,  offered  her  a  deference, 
a  flattery,  to  which,  as  he  was  fully  conscious,  the 
events  of  the  evening  had  lent  a  new  prestige. 

She,  too,  in  his  eyes,  had  triumphed  —  had  made  her 
mark.  His  ears  were  full  of  the  comments  made  upon 
her  to-night  by  the  little  world  on  the  terrace.  If  it 
were  not  for  money  —  hateful  money  !  —  what  more 
l)rilliant  wife  could  be  desired  for  any  rising  man  ? 

So  the  five  minutes  lengthened  into  ten,  and  by  the 
time  the  division  was  called,  and  Wharton  hurried  off. 
AFarcella,  soothed,  taken  out  of  herself,  rescued  from 
tlie  emptiness  and  forlornness  of  a  tragic  moment,  had 
given  him  more  conseious  cause  than  she  luid  ever  given 
liim  yet  to  think  her  kind  and  fair. 


i'-r 


fjl 


#j 


li 


CHAPTER  X. 


"  My  dear  Ned,  do  be  reasonable  !  Your  sister  is  in 
despair,  and  so  am  1.  Why  do  you  torment  us  by 
staying  on  here  in  tlie  lieat,  and  taking  all  these  en- 
gagements, Avhich  you  know  you  are  uo  more  fit  for 
than  —  " 

"A  sick  grasshopper,"  laughed  Hallin.  "Healthy 
wretch!  Did  Heaven  give  you  that  sun-burn  only 
that  you  might  come  home  from  Italy  and  twit  us 
weaklings  ?  Do  you  think  I  ^mnt  to  look  as  roni- 
bustious  as  you?  '^sT^tj^ij^g  ^^^  ^^^^^^j^^, 
triend ! " 

Aldous  looked  down  upon  the  speaker  with  an 
anxiety  quite  untouched  by  Hallin's  ''chaff." 

"  Miss  Hallin  tells  me,"  he  persisted,  ''  that  you  are 
wearnig  yourself  out  with  this  lecturing  campaign, 
that  you  don't  sleep,  and  that  she  is  more  unhappN' 
about  you  than  she  has  been  for  months.  Why  nJt 
give  it  up  now,  rest,  and  begin  again  in  the  winter?" 

Hallin  smiled  a  little  as  he  sat  with  the  tips  of  his 
fingers  lightly  joined  in  front  of  him. 

"I  doubt  whether  I  shall  live  through  the  winter," 
he  said  quietly, 

Kaeburn  started.  Hallin  in  general  spoke  of  his 
health,  when  he  allowed  it  to  be  mentioned  at  all,  in 
the  most  cheerful  terms. 

246 


MARCELLA. 


247 


ail 


"  Why  you  should  behave  as  though  you  ivished  to 
make  such  a  prophecy  true  I  can't  couceive  ! "  he  said 
ill  impatient  pain. 

Hallin  ottered  no  immediate  answer,  and  Raeburn, 
who  was  standing  in  front  of  him,  leaning  against  the 
wood-work  of  the  open  window,  looked  unhappily  at 
the  face  and  form  of  his  friend.  In  youth  tliat  face 
had  possessed  a  Greek  serenity  and  blitheness,  depend- 
ent perhaps  on  its  clear  aquiline^  feature,  the  steady 
transparent  eyes  —  cce/i  lucida  templa  —  the  fresh  fair- 
ness of  the  complexion,  and  the  boyish  brow  under  its 
arch  of  pale  brown  hair.  And  to  stronger  nu^n  there 
had  ahvays  been  something  peculiarly  winning  in  the 
i'lagile  grace  of  figure  and  movements,  suggesting,  as 
they  did,  sad  and  perpetual  compromise  between  the 
spirit's  eagerness  and  the  body's  weakness. 

"  Don't  make  yourself  unhappy,  my  dear  boy,"  said 
Hallin  at  last,  putting  up  a  thin  hand  and  touching 
his  friend  —  "I  shall  give  up  soon.  Moreover,  it  will 
give  me  up.  Workmen  want  to  do  something  else 
with  their  evenings  in  July  than  spend  them  in  listen- 
ing to  stuffy  lectures.  I  shall  go  to  the  Lakes.  But 
there  are  a  few  engagements  still  ahead,  and  —  I  con- 
fess I  am  more  restless  than  I  used  to  be.  The  night 
Cometh  when  no  man  can  work." 

They  fell  into  a  certain  amount  of  discursive  talk 
—  of  the  political  situation,  working-class  opinion,  and 
the  rest.  Raeburn  had  been  alive  now  for  some  time 
to  a  curious  change  of  balance  in  his  friend's  mind. 
Hallin's  buoyant  youth  had  concerned  itself  almost 
entirely  with  positive  crusades  and  enthusiasms.  Of 
late  he  seemed  rather  to  have  passed  into  a  period  of 


ifi 


^ffl 


248 


MAPiCELLA. 


negations,  of  strong  opposition  to  oertain  current  hms 
jind  aitl.s  ;  and  tin.  liappy  boyish  tono  of  earlier  years 
had  beeome  the  -stonuy  note  of  men  contention-tost/' 
which  bo  ongs,  indeed,  as  t.-uly  to  such  a  character  as 
the  joy  o±  young  ideals. 

Heliad  ahvays  been  to  some  extent  divided  from 
Kueburn  and  others  of  his  early  friend,  by  his  p-.s 
sionate  deni,Kn«aev -hi.   belief  in,  ana  .rust  oi^ 
^mUtitude.      lor  Hallin,   (he  divine  orio-mating  life 
was   reahse  1    and   m.'ufested  through   the  common 
Inmianity  ana  its  struggle,  a.  a  Avhole ;  for  Kaeburn, 
only  m  the  best  of  it,  ..orally  or  intellectually;  thJ 
rest  remaniing  an  aisenitable  problem,  .vhich  did  not 
indeed,  prevent  faith,  !mt  Lung  upon  it  like  a  dead 
weight,     hueh  divisions,  however,  are  among  the  com- 
^^r.n  divisions  of  thinking  men,  and  had  never  inter- 
fered .nth  the  friendship  of  these  two  in  the  least. 

Init  the  developing  alienation  between  Hallin  and 
hundreds  of  Ins  worki).Mnen  friends  was  of  an  infi- 
nitely keener  and  sorex  kind.    Since  he  had  begun  his 
ectunng  and  propagandist  life,  Socialist  ideas  of  all 
kinds  had  made  great  way  in  England.     And,  on  the 
whole,  as  the  prevailing  type  of  them  grew  stronger. 
Hal  ,n  s  sympathy  with  them  had  grown  weaker  mul 
Avaker.     Property  to  him  meant  "self-realisation"- 
and  the  abuse  of  property  was  no  more  just  ground 
for  a  crusade  which  logically  aimed  at  doing  away 
With  It,  than  the  abuse  of  other  human  powers  .' 
instincts   would  make   it  reasonable  to   try  and  do 
away  with -say  love,  or  religion.     To  give  Dropertv 
ond  t  erewith  the  fuller  human  opporti;ity,\o 'tl.os.: 
that  have  none,   was  the  inmost  desire  ^f  his  liJV, 


MAliCELLA. 


249 


And  not  merely  eominoii  ])roperty  — though  like  all 
true  soldiers  of  the  human  cause  he  believed  that 
common  property  will  be  in  the  future  enormously 
extended— but  in  the  first  place,  and  above  all,  to 
distribute  the  discipline  and  the  trust  of  personal  and 
l)rivate  possession  among  an  infinitely  greater  number 
of  hands  than  i)ossess  them  already.  And  that  not 
for  wealth's  sake— though  a  more  equal  distribution 
of  property,  and  therewith  of  capacity,  nuist  inevitably 
tend  to  wealth  — but  for  the  soul's  sake,  and  for  the 
sake  of  that  continuous  appropriation  by  the  race  of 
its  moral  and  spiritual  heritage. 

How  is  it  to  be  done?  Hallin,  like  many  others, 
would  have  answered  — "For  England  — mainly  by  a 
fresh  distribution  of  the  land."  Not,  of  course,  by 
violence  — which  only  means  the  worst  form  of  waste 
known  to  history  — but  by  the  continuous  pressure 
of  an  emancipating  legislation,  relieving  land  from 
shackles  long  since  struck  off  other  kinds  of  property 

—  hy  the  assertion,  within  a  certain  limited  range,  of 
communal  initiative  and  control  — and  above  all  by 
the  continuous  private  effort  in  all  sorts  of  ways 
and  splieres  of  "  men  of  good  will."  For  all  sweep- 
ing uniform  schemes  he  had  the  natural  contempt  of 
tlie  student  — or  the  moralist.  To  imagine  that  by 
nationalising  sixty  annual  millions  of  rent  for  instance 
you  could  make  England  a  city  of  God,  was  not  only 
n  vain  dream,  but  a  belittling  of  England's  history 
and  England's  task.    A  nation  is  not  saved  so  cheaply ! 

—  and  to  see  those  energies  turned  to  land  nationali- 
sation or  the  scheming  of  a  Collectivist  millennium, 
which  might  have  gone  to  the  housing,  educating,  and 


ll- 


W: 


lV)0 


MAHCELLA. 


V  m 


H'hning  of  English  men,  women,  an.l  ehihlron  of 
t(Hlay,  to  moralisin-  tl.o  employer's  view  of  l.js 
proHt,  and  the  landlord's  con.^eption  of  his  estate - 
filled  him  with  a  "jrowintr  des{)air. 

The  relation  of  sm^h  a^  habit  of  life  and  mind  to 
the  Colleetivist  an.l  Soeialist  ideas  now  coming  to  the 
front  in  Englan.l,  as  in  every  other  European  eountrv 
IS  obvious  enough.     To  Halliu  the  soeial  life,  the  com- 
munity,  was  everything  — yet   to   be  a    "Socialist" 
seemed  to  him  more  and  more  to  be  a  traitor '     He 
would  Iiave  built  his  state  on  the  purified  will  of  the 
indivulual  man,  and  could  conceive  no  other  found-i- 
tion  for  a  state  worth  having.     But  for  purification 
there  must  be  effort,  ami  for  effort  there  must  be 
freedom.    Socialism,  as  he  read  it,  despised  and  decried 
freedom,  and  placed  the  good  of  man  wholly  in  certain 
external  conditions.    It  Avas  aiming  at  a  state  of  thino-s 
under  which  the  joys  and  pains,  the  teaching  and  the 
risks  of  true  possession,  were  to  be  for  ever  shut  off 
from  the  poor  human  will,  which  yet,  according  to 
bun,  could  never  do  without  them,  if  man  was  to  be 
man. 

So  that  he  saw  it  all  sub  specie  mternitatis,  as  a 
matter  not  of  economic  theory,  but  rather  of  religion 
Raeburn,  as  they  talked,  shrank  in  dismay  from  the 
burning  intensity  of  mood  ^mderlying  his  controlled 
speech.     He  spoke,  for  instance,  of  Bennett's  conver- 
sion to  Harry  Wharton's  proposed  bill,  or  of  the  land 
nationalising  scheme  he  was  spending  all  his  slender 
stores  of  breath  and  strength  in  attacking,  not  with 
anger  or  contempt,  but  with  a  passionate  sorrow  which 
seemed  to   Raeburn  preposterous  !   intolerable  !  —  to 


M Am;  ELL  A. 


251 


be  exhausting  in  him  the  very  sjirings  and  sources  of 
a  too  precarious  life.  There  rose  in  AUlous  at  hist  an 
indignant  protest  wliieh  yet  couhl  liardly  tind  itself 
words.  What  help  to  have  softened  the  edge  and  fury 
of  religious  war,  only  to  discover  new  antagonisms  of 
opinion  as  capable  of  devastating  heart  and  affections 
as  any  homoousion  of  old  ?  l-[ad  th(;y  not  already  cost 
him  love  ?  Were  they  also,  in  another  fashion,  to  cost 
liim  his  friend  ? 


"Ah,  dear  old  fellow  — enough !"  said  Hallin  at 
last  —  "  take  nie  back  to  Italy !  You  have  told  me 
so  little  —  such  a  niggardly  little ! " 

"1  told  you  that  we  went  and  I  came  back  in  a 
water-spout,"  said  Aldous  ;  "the  first  rain  in  Northern 
Italy  for  four  months — worse  luck !  '  Kain  at  Keggio, 
rain  at  Parma. — At  Lodi  rain,  Piacenza  rain  !  '  —  that 
might  about  stand  for  my  diary,  except  for  one 
radiant  day  when  my  aunt,  Betty  .dacdonald,  and 
1  descended  on  Milan,  and  climbed  the  Duomo." 

"  Did  Miss  Betty  amuse  you  ?  " 

Aldous  laughed. 

"Well,  at  least  she  varied  the  programme.  The 
greater  part  of  our  day  in  Milan  Aunt  Neta  and  I  spent 
in  rushing  after  her  like  its  tail  after  a  kite.  First  of 
all,  she  left  us  in  the  Duomo  Square,  running  like  a 
deer,  and  presently,  to  Aunt  Neta's  horror,  we  discov- 
ered that  she  was  pursuing  a  young  Italian  officer  in 
a  blue  cloak.  When  we  came  up  with  the  pair  she 
was  inquiring,  in  her  best  Italian,  where  :  he  •  Signor ' 
got  his  cloak,  because  positively  she  must  have  one  like 
It,  and  he,  cap  in  hand,  was  explaining  to  the  Signorina 


'       f>j 


;!  * 


lit 


m 


V      h 


dHm'. 

- 

Wg»J>lWlBi 

B^^^Htv^ 

k*fe* ., 

252 


AtAIii  FLLA. 


Imt  ,    sh.  w..ulcl  hut  follow  him  n.un.l  tho  oorn.r  (o 

lusnu],tarytailor^s,slu,.oulabesu,,pli.lontlH.s^^^^^ 
So  there  uo  .11  went,  Miss  Jietty  insistinK.     Vou  ean 
nmj^nne  Aunt  Neta      ,She  bouKhi  a  s.nall  shiph.ui  of 

s    tt^an.  tluM.pos.t.velyskippMforJoyinthestreet 
outsule-the  anuued  officer  looking  on.     An.l  as  for 

u;r  career  over  the  roof  of  the  I)u,.n.o -- the  agitation 
-t    .t    nearly  bro.i.^ht  my  aunt   to  .iestrnetion -ami 

Zvn  L''""' '  "^'^  "'  "^^^^^ 

i^  tne  oreature  all  tricks?"  said  Hallin,  with  . 
snn le  '^Vs  you  talk  of  her  to  me  I  ,.et  the  notion  of 
a  litt  e  monkey  just  ,at  loose  from  a  barrel  or.^tn  " 

••Oh:    but   the  monkey  has  so  mueh    heart,"  sai.l 
A  dous  laughmg  again,  as  every  one  was  apt  to  laugh 
vho  talked  about   Betty  Maedonald,  "and  it  n.akl.s 
inends  with  every  sick  and  sorry  creature  it  eomes 
«'U'mss    especially  with   old   maids!     It  amounts   In 
genms,  l.etty  s  way  with  old  maids.     Yon  shonld  see 
I'er  m  the  middle  of  them  m  the  hotel  ..l,n  at  ni<d.t 
-a  perfect  ring  of  them^and  the  men  oui  ^-■de,  totalh 
neglected,  and  out  of  t-Muper.     T  have  never   ,  en  15.  -v 
yet  in  .   room  with  somebody  she  thought  ill    ^  ei 

or  put  m  the  shade -a  governess,  or  a  sdmo.irJ  or  ' 
Inmpish  boy-Liuit  she  did  not  devote  her,s.  ,f  to  tl 
somebody.     Tt   is   a   pretty    instinct;    I    have   oft.-n 
woiu  'red  whether  it  is   .ature  or  art  " 

H,  fell  sil.nt,  still  smiling.  Hallin  watched  hin, 
'losely.  1  erhaps  the  thought  which  had  risen  in  his 
mind  revealed  "  .elf  by  some  subtle  sign  or  other  to 
Aldou..  I^or  suddenlv  Rueburn's  expression  change.l  • 
the  uvev-strenuous,  harass.-d  h.-.k.  which  of  late  h--i.i 


M  MICELLA. 


2r,.'j 


soniP\vli;if    taken  tli(«   jjlacn  (,f   Iuh  old    philosopluir's 
f|iii('t,  icipjM'iin'd. 

'•  I  (lid  1  )t  t(!ll  you,  Halliii,"  ]i(!  l.fgan,  in  a  low 
voice,  i-iiisiii^r  his  eyes  to  his  fri.-nd,  "that  1  had  seen 
her  aj:;iiiii."' 

Hallin  jtaiiscd  a  inonxMit.     Then  ho  said: 

"No.  I  knew  .she  went  to  the  I  fous''  to  heir 
Wharton's  speech,  and  tliat  she  dined  there.  F  snp- 
|)o.sed  she  nii^ht  just  havi;  eonie  across  you  — but  she 
.said  nothini;."' 

"Ofrounse,  I  had  no  idea,"  .said  Ahlou.;  ''suddenly 
Lady  Winterhoiiiiie  and  I  came  across  hei'  on  the  ter- 
race. Then  I  ,saw  she  was  with  that  nuui's  party, 
.she  sooko  to  uw  afterwards— 1  hfli^'vc-  now  — sIh- 
mean^  to  he  kind"— his  voic*.  showed  the  difficulty  he 
had  in  speaking  at  all  —  ''  but  I  saw  him  coining  up 
to  talk  to  her.  1  am  ashamed  to  think  of  m\  ou,, 
manner,  but  I  could  not  help  myself." 

His  face  and  eye  took,  as  he  spoke,  a  peculiar  vivid- 
ness and  glow.  Kaeburu  had  not  for  months  men- 
tioned to  him  the  name  of  Marcella  Boyce,  but  Hallin 
lia.l  all  along  held  two  faiths  about  the^  matter :  first, 
that  Aldous  was  still  possessed  by  a  !)assion  whidi 
had  become  i)art  of  hi  life;  secMindly.  that  the  events 
oi  the  preceding  year  had  produced  in  him  nn  exceed- 
ingly bitter  sense  of  ill-usage,  of  a  type  which  Hallin 
had  not  perhaps  expected. 

•']3id  you  see  anything  to  make  you  suppo.se,"  he 
ask.  1  quietly,  after  a  j  ,,  '  tliat"  she  is  going  to 
marry  him  ?  " 

''No  — no."  Aldous  repeated  slowly;  "bnt  she  is 
eleaily  o!i  frieii'ily,  perhaps  intimate,  terms  with  him. 


li 


i 


T7 


;i 


254 


MARC  ELLA. 


'!ij. 


M 


fij 


And  ,„.st,  now.  of  c-ourso,  sl.e  is  ,noro  likely  to  bo  influ- 
enoed  l,y  hwn  than  ovor.  Ffn  nuul.  a  ,  Jt  .suocoss- 
<>f  a  knK-,n  the  House  a  fortnight  a^o.  IVopl. 
soem  to  th,nk  ho  .nny  oo.no  rapidly  to  tho  front." 

"So  I  undorstiuid.  I  don't  holiove  it.  Thr  i.-d 
ous.es  that  divide  that  group  are  too  nnnn.naKeabie" 
n  he  u^ere  a  I'arnell !  lint  he  hteks  just  the  qualities 
that  matter -the  reticenee,  the  imuer  of  hohiinj,  hin,- 
self  aloot  from  u  relevant  things  and  interests,  tlu- 
hard  self-concentration." 
A  hU)us  rais(Hl  his  shoulders. 

••  I  (Ic.u't  imagine  there  is  any  lack  of  that!     Hut 
ertainly  he  holds    hin.self  .loof    fron.  nothing  and 
nobody  !     I  hear  of  him  every  whei-e." 
"  What !  —  among  the  smart  pei  pie  ?  " 
Aldous  nodded. 

"A  chauK,.  of  policy  by  all  aeo„„„ts,"  sni.I  n„Mi„ 
n."s,„g.  ••Ho„„„t,loit«-ith  i„t,M,ti,>„.  He  is  no 
the  man  .,,.  let  himself  be  be-Capua-e,!  all  at  onee." 

Oh,learno!"sai,lAldo„s,,l,.iIy.  "He, loos  it  with 
.ntenfon.  Noho.ly  snpposes  him  to  be  the  n,e,-e  toa.lv 
All  tl,e  same  I  think  he  may  very  well  overrate  th,: 
.mportane^  of  the  elass  he  i.s  trying  to  „,ake  nse  of 
and  .ts  mfluenee.  Have  yon  been  following  the  strike 
•  leaders '  in  the  Clarion  ?  " 

"No!"  eried  Hallin,  flnshing.  "I  wonld  not  read 
them  for  the  world!  I  mieht  not  be  able  to  go  on 
giving  to  the  strike."  *" 

Aldous  fell  silent,  and  Hallin  presently  saw  that 

hi;re'd"1,'"1"'  "^'*  *°  '"^  ™'  -b.l>ct't,r  reX 
held  the  depths  of  ,t.  The  trnest  friendship,  Hallin 
beheved,  wonld  be  never  to  speak  to  him  of  Marcen" 


MAliCKLLA. 


255 


Mnycp — npvor  io  onroiir.iK*"  him  to  dwoll  upon  lior,  or 
upon  iinjtliiu^  (U)nneote(l  with  hor.  I{>it  his  yearning, 
sympatlietid  instinct  wouhl  not  let  him  follow  his  own 
conviction. 

"Miss  Hoyop,  you  know,  has  boon  hore  two  or  three 
times  while  you  have  boon  away,"  lie  said  quickly,  as 
ho  got  up  to  post  a  letter. 

Aldous  hesitated;  then  he  said  — 
" Do  you  gather  that  her  nursing  life  satisfies  her 't  " 
Hallin  made  a  little  face. 

"Since  when  has  she  become  a  person  likely  to  be 
'satisfied  '  with  anything  ?  She  devotes  to  it  a  splen- 
did and  wondorful  energy.  When  she  comes  here  I 
admire  her  with  all  my  heart,  and  i)ity  lior  so  much 
that  r  could  cry  over  her ! " 
Aldoua  started. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  he  said,  as  he  too 
rose  and  laid  his  hand  on  Hallin's   for  a  moment. 
'•  Hut  don't  tell  me !     It's  best  for  me  not  to  talk  of 
her.      If  she  were  associated  in  my  mind  with  any 
other  man  than  Wharton,  I  think  somehow  I  could 
throAV  the  whole  thing  off.     But  this  —  this  —  "     He 
broke  off;  then  resumed,  while  he  pretended  to  look 
for  a  parcel  lie  had  brought  with  him,  by  way  of  cov- 
ering an  agitation  he  could  not  suppress.     "A  person 
you  and  I  know  said  to  me  the  other  day,  '  It  may 
sound  unromantic,  but  I  could  never  think  of  a  woman 
who  had   thrown  me  over  except  with  ill-wilV     The 
word  astonished  me,  but  sometimes  I  understand  it. 
f  find  myself  full  of  anger  to  the  most  futile,  the  most 
ridiculous  degree ! " 
He  drew  himself  up  nervously,  already  scorning  his 


M;  I 


256 


MARCELLA. 


own  absurdity,  his  own  breach  of  reticence.  Hallin 
laid  his  hands  on  the  taller  man's  shoulders,  and  there 
was  a  short  pause. 

''Never  mind,  old  fellow,"  said  Hallin,  simply   at 
ast,  as  his  hands  dropped ;  -  let's  go  and  do  our  work 
VVhat  IS  it  you're  after  ?  —  I  forget." 

Aldous  found  his  packet  and  his  hat,  oxplaininc. 
himself  again,  meanwhile,  in  his  usual  voice.     He  had 
dropped  in  on  Hallin  for  a  morning  visit,  meaning  to 
spend  some  hours  before  the  House  met  in  the  inves 
tigation  of  some  small  workshops  in  the  neighbour- 
hood  of  Drury  Lane.      The  Home  Office  had  been 
called  upon  for  increased  inspection  and  regulation ; 
there  had  been  a  great  conflict  of  evidence,  and  Aldous 
had  hnally  resolved  in  his  student's  way  to  see  for 
himself  the  state  of  things  in  two  or  three  selected 
streets. 

It  was  a  matter  on  which  Hallin  was  also  wcll- 
infornied,  and  felt  strongly.  They  stayed  talkino 
about  It  a  few  minutes,  Hallin  eagerly  directing  Rat- 
burn  s  attention  to  the  two  or  three  points  where  he 
thought  the  Government  could  really  do  good. 
Then  Raeburn  turned  to  go. 

"I  shall  come  and  drag  you  out  to-morrow  after- 
noon,   he  said,  as  he  opened  the  door. 

''You  needn't,"  said  Hallin,  with  a  smile ;  -  in  fact, 
(ton  t ;   I  shall  have  my  jaunt." 

Whereby  Aldous  understood  that  he  would  be  en 
gaged  in  his  common  Saturday  practice  of  taking  out 
a  batch  of  elder  boys  or  girls  from  one  or  other  of  tin- 
schools  of  which  he  was  manager,  for  a  walk  or  to  see 
some  sight. 


MARCELLA. 


257 


•'  If  it's  your  boys,"  he  said,  protesting,  '■  you're  not 
fit  for  it.     Hand  them  over  to  me." 

''  Nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  Hallin,  gaily,  and  turned 
him  out  of  the  room. 


:i'  in^i 


Hi 


Eaeburn  found  the  walk  from  Hallin's  Bloom sbury 
quarters  to  Drury  Lane  hot  and  airless.  The  planes 
were  already  drooping  and  yellowing  in  the  squares, 
the  streets  were  at  their  closest  and  dirtiest,  and  the 
traffic  of  Holborn  and  its  approaches  had  never  seemed 
to  him  more  bewildering  in  its  roar  and  volume.  July 
was  in,  and  all  freshness  had  already  disappeared  from 
the  too  short  London  summer. 

For  Raeburn  on  this  particular  afternoon  there  was 
a  curious  forlornness  in  the  dry  and  tainted  air.     His 
slack  mood  found  no  bracing  in  the  sun  or  the  breeze. 
Everything  was  or  seemed  distasteful  to  a  mind  out 
of  tunc  —  whether  this  work  he  was  upon,  which  only 
yesterday  had   interested   him   considerably,   or  his 
Parliamentary  occupations,  or  some   tiresome  estate 
business  which  would  have  to  be  looked  into  when  he 
got  home.     He  was  oppressed,  too,  by  the  last  news 
of  his  grandfather.     The  certainty  that  this  dear  and 
honou-.;d  life,  with  which  his  own  had  been  so  closely 
intertwined  since  his  boyhood,  was  drawing  to  its  close 
weighed  upon  hijn  now  heavily  and  constantly.     The 
loss  itself  would  take  from  him  an  object  on  which 
affection  —  checked  and  thwrrted  elsewhere  —  was  still 
free  to  spend  itself  in  ways  peculiarly  noble  and  tender  ; 
and  as  for  those  otlier  changes  to  which  the  first  great 
change  must   lead  — his  transference    to  the  Upper 
House,  and  tlie  extension  for  liimself  of  all  the  cere- 

VOL.  II.  — 17 


Wt    I 


!  i:: 


258 


MARCELLA. 


J  :  II 


(.     i 


•J'l     i 


monial  side  of  life  — he  looked  forward  to  them  with 
an  intense  and  resentful  repugnance,  as  to  aggrava- 
tions, perversely  thrust  on  him  from  without,  of  a 
great  and  necessary  grief.  Few  men  believed  less 
happily  in  democracy  than  Aldous  Kaeburn ;  on  the 
other  hand,  few  men  felt  a  more  steady  distaste  for 
certain  kinds  of  inequality. 

He  was  to  meet  a  young  inspector  at  the  corner  of 
Little  Queen  Street,  and  they  were  to  visit  together  a 
series  of  small  brush-drawing  and  box-making  work- 
shops in  the  Drury  Lane  district,  to  which  the  attention 
of  the  Department  had  lately  been  specially  drawn. 
Aldous  had  no  sooner  crossed  Holborn  than  he  saw  his 
man  waiting  for  him.  a  tall  strip  of  a  fellow,  with  a 
dark  bearded  face,  and  a  manner  which  shyness  had 
made  a  trifle  morose.  Aldous,  however,  knew  him  to 
be  not  only  a  capital  worker,  but  a  man  of  parts,  and 
had  got  much  information  and  some  ideas  out  of  him 
already.  Mr.  Peabody  gave  the  under-sec retary  a  slight 
preoccupied  smile  in  return  for  his  friendly  greeting, 
and  the  two  walked  on  together  talking. 

The  inspector  announced  that  he  proposed  to  take 
his  companion  first  of  all  to  a  street  behind  Drury  Lane, 
of  which  many  of  the  houses  were  already  marked  for 
demolition— a  ''black  street,"  bearing  a  peculiarly  vile 
reputation  in  the  neighbourhood.  It  contained  on  the 
whole  the  worst  of  the  small  workshops  which  he 
desired  to  bring  to  liaeburn's  notice,  besides  a  variety 
of  other  horrors,  social  and  sanitary. 

After  ten  minutes'  walking  they  turned  into  the 
street.  With  its  condemned  houses,  many  of  them 
shored  up  and  windowless,  its  narrow  roadway  strewn 


MARCELLA. 


259 


with  costers'  refuse  —  it  was  largely  inhabited  by- 
costers  irequeiiting  Covent  Garden  Market  —  its 
filthy  gutters  and  broken  pavements,  it  touched,  in- 
deed, a  depth  of  sinister  squalor  beyond  most  of  its 
fellows.  The  air  was  heavy  with  odours  which,  in 
this  July  heat,  seemed  to  bear  with  them  the  inmost 
essences  of  things  sickening  and  decaying;  and  the 
children,  squatting  or  playing  amid  the  garbage  of  the 
street,  were  further  than  most  of  their  kind  f'.om  any 
tolerable  human  type. 

A  policeman  was  stationed  near  the  entrance  of  the 
street.  After  they  had  passed  him,  Mr.  Peabody  ran 
back  and  said  a  word  in  his  ear. 

"  I  gave  him  your  name,"  he  said  briefly,  in  answer 
to  Raeburn's  interrogative  look,  when  he  returned, 
"  and  told  him  what  we  were  after.  The  street  is  not 
quite  as  bad  as  it  was;  and  there  are  little  oases  of 
respectability  in  it  you  would  never  expect.  But 
there  is  plenty  of  the  worst  thieving  and  brutality 
left  in  it  still.  Of  course,  now  you  see  it  at  its  dull 
moment.  To-night  the  place  will  swarm  with  barrows 
and  stalls,  all  the  people  will  be  in  the  street,  and 
after  dark  it  will  be  as  near  pandemonium  as  may  be. 
I  happen  to  know  the  School  Board  visitor  of  these 
parts ;  and  a  City  Missionary,  too,  who  is  afraid  of 
nothing." 

And  standing  still  a  moment,  pointing  impercepti- 
bly to  right  and  left,  he  began  in  his  shy,  monotonous 
voice  to  run  through  the  inhabitants  of  some  of  the 
houses  and  a  few  typical  histories.  This  group  was 
mainly  peopled  by  women  of  the  very  lowest  class  and 
their  "  bullies  "  —  that  is  to  say,  the  men  who  aided 


260 


MARCELLA. 


them  in  pliinderiiig,  sometimes  in  murdering,  the 
stranger  who  fell  into  their  claws;  in  that  house  a 
woman  had  been  slowly  done  to  death  by  her  husband 
and  his  brutal  brothers  under  every  circumstance  of 
tragic  horror ;  in  the  next  a  case  of  flagrant  and  revolt- 
ing cruelty  to  a  pair  of  infant  children  had  just  been 
brought  to  light.  In  addition  to  its  vice  and  its 
thievery,  the  wretched  place  was,  of  course,  steeped 
in  drink.  There  were  gin-palaces  at  all  the  corners ; 
the  women  drank,  in  proportion  to  their  resources,  as 
badly  as  the  men,  and  the  children  were  fed  with  the 
stuff  in  infancy,  and  began  for  themselves  as  early  as' 
they  could  beg  or  steal  a  copper  of  their  own. 

When  the  dismal  catalogue  was  done,  they  moved 
on  towards  the  further  end  of  the  street,  and  a  house 
on  the  right  hand  side.  Behind  the  veil  of  his  official 
manner  Aldous's  shrinking  sense  took  all  it  saw  and 
heard  as  fresh  food  for  a  darkness  and  despondency 
of  soul  already  great  enough.  But  his  companion  — a 
young  enthusiast,  secretly  very  critical  of  "big-wigs" 
—  was  conscious  only  of  the  trained  man  of  affairs, 
courteous,  methodical,  and  well-informed,  putting  a 
series  of  preliminary  questions  with  unusual  point 
and  rapidity. 

Suddenly,  under  the  influence  of  a  common  impres- 
sion, both  men  stood  still  and  looked  about  them. 
There  was  a  stir  in  the  street.  Windows  had  been 
thrown  open,  and  scores  of  heads  were  looking  out. 
People  emerged  from  all  quarters,  seemed  to  spring 
from  the  ground  or  drop  from  the  skies,  i  m  a  few 
seconds,  as  it  were,  the  street,  so  dead-alive  before,  was 
fuU  of  a  running  and  shouting  crowd. 


MAMCELLA. 


261 


was 


"  It's  a  fight !  "  said  Peabody,  as  the  crowd  came  up 
with  them.     "  Listen  !  " 

Shrieks  — of  the  most  ghastly  and  piercing  note, 
rang  through  the  air.  The  men  and  women  who 
rushed  past  the  two  strangers  —  hustling  them,  yet 
too  excited  to  notice  them  —  were  all  making  for  a 
house  some  ten  or  twelve  yards  in  front  of  them,  to 
their  left.     Aldous  had  turned  white. 

"  It  is  a  woman !  "  he  said,  after  an  instant's  listen- 
ing, "and  it  sounds  like  murder.  You  go  back  for 
that  policeman ! " 

And  without  another  word  he  threw  himself  on  the 
crowd,  forcing  his  way  through  it  by  the  help  of  arms 
and  shoulders  which,  in  years  gone  by,  had  done  good 
service  for  the  Trinity  Eight.  Drink-sodden  men  and 
screaming  women  gave  way  before  him.  He  found 
himself  at  the  door  of  the  house,  hammering  upon  it 
with  two  or  three  other  men  who  were  there  before 
hnn.  The  noise  from  within  was  appalling  —  cries, 
groans,  uproar  —  all  the  sounds  of  a  deadly  struggle 
proceeding  apparently  on  the  second  floor  of  the  house. 
Then  came  a  heavy  fall  —  then  the  sound  of  a  voice, 
different  in  quality  and  accent  from  any  that  had  gone 
before,  crying  piteously  and  as  though  in  exhaustion 
~  "  Help  !  " 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  the  door  which  Aldous 
and  his  companions  were  trying  to  force  was  burst 
open  from  within,  and  three  men  seemed  to  be  shot 
out  from  the  dark  passage  inside  ~  two  wrestling  with 
the  third,  a  wild  beast  in  human  sliape,  maddened 
a])parently  with  drink,  and  splashed  with  blood. 

"  Ee's  done  for  her  ! "  shouted  one  of  the  captors ; 

"' for  the  Sister  too  ! " 


an' 


I   'i 


262 


MARCELLA. 


''The  Sister!  "  shrieked  a  woman  behind  Aldoiis  — 
"  it's  the  nuss  he  means  !  1  sor  her  go  in  when  I  wor 
at  my  window  half  an  hour  ago.  Oh  !  yer  blackguard, 
you !  "  —  and  she  would  have  fallen  upon  the  wretch, 
in  a  frenzy,  had  not  the  bystanders  caught  hold  of 
her. 

"  Stand  back !  "  cried  a  policeman.  Three  of  them 
had  come  up  at  Peabody's  call.  The  num  was  in- 
stantly secured,  and  the  crowd  pushed  back. 

Aldous  was  already  upstairs. 

"  Which  room  ?  "  he  asked  of  a  group  of  women 
crying  and  cowering  on  the  first  landing  —  for  all 
sounds  from  above  had  ceased. 

'*  Third  floor  front,"  cried  one  of  them.  "  We  all  of 
us  begged  and  implored  of  that  young  person,  sir,  not 
to  go  a-near  him!  Didn't  we,  Betsy? — didn't  we, 
Doll?" 

Aldous  ran  up. 

On  the  third  floor,  the  door  of  the  front  room  was 
open.  A  woman  lay  on  the  ground,  apparently  beaten 
to  death. 

By  her  side,  torn,  dishevelled,  and  gasping,  knelt 
Marcella  Boyce.  Two  or  three  other  women  were 
standing  by  in  helpless  terror  and  curiosity.  Marcella 
was  bending  over  the  bleeding  victim  before  her.  Her 
own  left  arm  hung  as  though  disabled  by  her  side  ;  but 
with  the  right  hand  she  was  doing  her  best  to  staunch 
some  of  the  bleeding  from  the  head.  Her  bag  stood 
open  beside  her,  and  one  of  the  chattering  women  was 
handing  her  what  she  asked  for.  The  sight  stamped 
itself  in  lines  of  horror  on  Raeburn's  heart. 

In  such  an  exaltation  of  nerve  she  could  be  surprised 


MAUCELLA. 


263 


at  nothing.  When  sh:  saw  Raebuni  enter  the  room, 
she  did  nut  even  start. 

"1  think,"  she  said,  as  he  stooped  down  to  her  — 
speaking  with  pauses,  as  though  to  get  her  breath  — 
"  he  has  —  killed  her.  But  there  —  is  a  ehanee.  Are 
the  —  poliee  there  —  and  a  stret(;her  ? "' 

Two  constables  entered  as  she  si)oke,  and  the;  first 
of  them  instantly  sent  his  eonipanion  hack  for  a 
stretcher.  Then,  noticing  Marc^ella's  nursing  dress 
and  cloak,  he  came  up  to  her  respectfully. 

"  Did  you  see  it,  miss  ?  " 

"1  —  1  tried  to  separate  them,"  she  rei)lied,  still 
speaking  with  the  same  difficulty,  while  she  silently 
motioned  to  Aldous,  who  was  on  the  other  side  of  the 
unconscious  and  apparently  dying  woman,  to  help  her 
with  the  bandage  she  was  applying.  ''  But  he  was  — 
such  a  great  —  powerful  brute." 

Aldous,  hating  the  clumsiness  of  his  man's  fingers, 
knelt  down  and  tried  to  help  her.  Her  trembling  hand 
touched,  mingled  with  his. 

'"  I  was  downstairs,"  she  went  on.  while  the  consta- 
ble took  out  his  note-book,  "attending  a  child — that's 
ill  —  when  I  heard  the  screams.  They  were  on  the 
landing;  he  had  turned  her  out  of  the  room — then 
rushed  after  her — I  think  —  to  throw  her  downstairs 
—  I  stopped  that.  Then  he  took  up  something  —  oh  I 
there  it  is!"  She  shuddered,  pointing  to  a  broken 
piece  of  a  chair  which  lay  on  the  floor.  ''He  was 
quite  mad  with  drink  —  1  couldn't  —  do  much." 

Her  voice  slipped  into  a  weak,  piteous  note. 

"  Isn't  your  arm  hurt  ?  "  said  Aldous.  ])ointing  to  it. 

"It's  not  broken  —  it's  wrenched;    I  can't   use  it. 


I|i' 


264 


MA  RCELLA. 


1 


There  —  that's   all    we   can    do  —  till   she    gets  —  to 
hospital." 

Then  she  stood  up,  pale  and  stag^'cM-inj?,  and  asked 
tiie  policeman  if  he  eould  put  on  ji.  bandage.  The  man 
had  j^ot  his  ambulance  e«'rtiticate,  and  was  proud  to  s;iv 
that  he  eould.  She  took  a  roll  out  of  her  baj,',  and 
quietly  pointed  to  her  arm.  He  did  his  bt'st,  not  with- 
out skill,  and  the  deep  line  of  pain  furrowing  the 
centre  of  the  brow  relaxed  a  littlt;.  Then  she  sank 
down  on  the  floor  again  beside  her  patient,  gazing  at 
the  woman's  marred  face  —  indescribably  patient  in 
its  deep  unconsciousness  —  at  the  gnarled  and  blood- 
stained hands,  with  their  wedding-ring;  at  the  thin 
locks  of  torn  grey  hair  —  with  tears  that  ran  unheeded 
down  her  cheeks,  in  a  passion  of  anguished  pity, 
which  touched  a  chord  of  memory  in  Raeburn's  mind. 
He  had  seen  her  look  so  once  before  —  beside  Minta 
Hurd,  on  the  day  of  Hurd's  capture. 

At  the  same  moment  he  saw  that  they  were  alone. 
The  policeman  had  cleared  the  room,  and  was  spend- 
ing the  few  minutes  th;it  must  elapse  before  his  com- 
panion returned  with  the  stretcher,  in  taking  the 
names  and  evidence  of  some  of  the  inmates  of  the 
house,  on  the  stairs  outside. 

"  You  can't  do  anything  more,"  said  Aldous,  gently, 
bending  over  her.  '•  Won't  you  let  me  take  you 
home  ?  —  you  want  it  sorely.  The  police  are  trained 
to  these  things,  and  I  have  a  friend  here  who  will 
help.  They  will  remove  her  with  every  care  —  he 
will  see  to  it." 

Then  for  the  first  time  her  absorption  gave  way. 
She   remembered  who  he  was  —  where  they  were  — 


M  Alia  ELL  A. 


265 


how  tljfy  had  last,  met.  And  with  the  reinembrance 
oame  an  extraordinary  leap  of  joy,  tlasliiiig  through 
pain  and  faintness.  She  had  the  (!hildish  feeling  that 
he  r-nld  not  look  unkindly  at  her  any  more — after 
this  .  When  at  the  White  House  she  had  got  herself 
into  disgraee,  and  could  not  bring  her  prid(!  to  ask 
pardon,  she  would  silently  set  u[)  a  headaehe  or  a  cut 
finger  that  she  might  be  jjitied,  and  so,  ])erforee,  for- 
given. The  same  tacit  thought  was  in  her  mind  now. 
No!  —  after  this  he  must  be  friends  with  her. 

"1  will  just  help  to  get  her  downstairs,"  she  said, 
but  with  a  quivering,  ajjpealing  accent  —  and  so  they 
fell  silent. 

Aldous  looked  round  the  room  —  at  the  miserable 
filthy  garret  with  it.s  begrimed  and  peeling  wall-])aijer, 
its  two  or  three  broken  chairs,  its  heap  c^f  rags  across 
two  boxes  that  served  for  a  bed,  its  empty  gin-bottles 
here  and  there  —  all  the  familiar,  one  might  almost 
say  conventionalised,  signs  of  human  ruin  and  damna- 
tion—  then  at  this  breathing  death  between  himself 
and  her.  Perhaps  his  strongest  feeling  was  one  of 
fierce  and  natural  protest  against  circumstance  — 
against  her  mother !  —  against  a  reckless  jihilanthropy 
that  could  thus  throw  the  finest  and  fragilest  things 
of  a  poorly-furnished  world  into  such  a  hopeless 
struggle  with  devildom. 

"  I  have  been  here  several  times  b<'^fore,"  she  said 
presently,  in  a  faint  voice,  *'and  there  has  nevei'  been 
any  trouble.  By  day  the  street  is  not  much  worse 
than  others — though,  of  course,  it  has  a  ])ad  juime. 
There  is  a  little  boy  on  the  next  floor  very  ill  with 
typhoid.     Many  of  the  women  in  the  house  are  very 


if!*' 


flf 


,1? 


!•  m 


266 


MARCELLA. 


good  U,  him  and  his  mother.  This  poor  thing  —  used 
to  come  in  and  out— when  I  was  nursing  him  —  Oli,  1 
wish  —  1  wish  they  would  oome ! "  she  broke  off  in 
impatience,  lookin.;  {;t  the  deathly  form —  " every 
moment  is  of  importance  !  " 

As  Aldous  went  to  the  door  to  see  if  the  stretcher 
was  in  sight,  it  o|)ened,  an.:  the  police  came  in.  Mar- 
cella,  herself  helpless,  directed  the  lilting  of  the 
bloodstained  head  ;  the  police  obeyed  her  Avith  care 
and  skill.  Then  Kaeburn  assisted  in  the  carrying 
downstairs,  and  presently  the  police  with  their  bur- 
den, and  accom])anied  apparently  by  the  whole  street, 
were  on  their  way  to  the  nearest  hospital. 

Then  Aldous,  to  his  despai-  and  wrath,  saw  that  un 
inspector  of  police,  who  had  just  come  uj),  was  talking 
to  Marcella,  no  doubt  instructing  her  as  to  how  and 
where  she  was  to  give  her  evidence.  She  was  leaning 
against  the  passage  wall,  suppoiting  her  injured  ariu 
with  her  hand,  and  seemed  to  him  on  the  point  of 
fainting. 

"Get  a  cab  at  once,  will  you!"  he  said  peremptorily 
to  Peabody ;  then  going  up  to  the  inspector  he  drew 
him  forward.  They  exchanged  a  few  words,  the  in- 
spector lifted  his  cap,  and  Aldous  went  back  to  Mar- 
cella. 

"There  is  a  cab  here,"  he  said  to  her.  "Come. 
please,  directly.  They  will  not  trouble  you  .aiy  more 
for  the  present." 

He  led  her  out  through  the  still  lingering  crowd 
and  put  her  into  the  cab.  As  they  drove  along,  he 
felt  every  jolt  and  roughness  of  the  street  as  thougli 
he  w^ere  Ijimsolf   in  anguish.      She    was   some   tin 


UlC 


#TP 


MARCELLA. 


267 


h(  fore  slie  recovered  the      '•  of  pain  caused  her  by 
th<     lot  of  getting  into   ^  ib.     Her  breath  came 

fast,  and  lie  couhl  see  tl       she  was  trying  hard   to 
control  hersilf  and  not  to  laint. 

He,  too,  restrained  himself  so  far  as  not  to  talk  to 
ht'r.  But  the  exasperation,  the  revolt  within,  was  in 
truth  growing  unmanagiMbly.  Was  this  what  her  new 
career  —  her  'uthusiasms  —  meant,  or  might  mean! 
Twenty-three  !  —  in  the  priij^e  of  youth,  of  charm  ! 
Horrible,  uni)ardonable  w  iste !  He  could  not  bear  it, 
could  not  submit,  h         H'  to  it. 

Oh!  let  her  ma  Vharton,  or  any  one  else,  so 

long  as  it  were  ma(  inpossible  for  her  to  bruise  and 
exhaust  her  young  bloom  amid  such  scenes  —  such 
gross  physical  abominations.  Amazing !  —  how  meanly, 
passionately  timorous  the  man  of  Raeburn's  type  can 
be  for  the  wonum  !  He  himself  nuiy  be  morally  "ever 
a  tighter,"  and  feel  the  glow,  the  stern  joy  of  the  light. 
But  she !  —  let  her  leave  the  human  brute  and  his 
unsavoury  struggle  alone!  it  cannot  be  borne  —  it 
was  never  meant  —  that  she  should  dip  her  delicate 
wings,  of  her  own  free  will  at  least,  in  such  a  mire  of 
blood  and  tears.  It  was  the  feeling  that  had  pos- 
sessed him  when  Mrs.  Boyce  told  him  of  the  visit  to 
the  prison,  the  night  in  the  cottage. 

In  her  whirl  of  feverish  thought,  she  divined  him 
very  closely.  Presently,  as  he  watched  her  —  hating 
the  man  for  driving  and  the  cab  for  shaking  —  he  saw 
her  white  lips  suddenly  smile. 

"I  kn(  vv,''  she  said,  rousing  herself  to  look  at  him; 
''you  think  nursing  is  all  like  that !  " 

"  I  hope  not ! ''  he  said,  with  eftbrt,  trviutr  to  smile 


rm- 


T 


ii 


ti  ti 


•yiug 


ssip: 


too. 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


1^ 

■  3.0 

1^     11^ 


Z8 

3.6 


114.0 


1.4 


2.5 

12.2 

2.0 
1.8 


1.6 


^     APPLIED  IfVHGE     Inc 


1653   East   Main   Street 
Roctiester,    New   York         14609 
(716)   482  -  0300  -  Phone 
(716)   288  -  5989  -  Fax 


USA 


mi 


268 


MARCELLA. 


"I  never  saw  a  fight  before,"  she  said,  shutting  her 
eyes  again.    "  Nobody  is  ever  rude  to  uslj  often  .'^ 
for  experiences  ! "  ^ 

How  like  her  old,  wild  tone !    His  rigid  look  soft 
ened  involuntarily.  ^  ^'^^^' 

"Well,  you  have  got  one  now,"  he  said,  bendin^^ 
over  to  her      ^^  Does  your  arm  hurt  you  much  ?  '        ' 
Yes,- but  I  can  bear  it.    What  vexes  me  is  that  I 
shalUaye  to  give  up  work  for  a  bit.  ^  Mr.  Kaeburn  ,  ' 
ies.       Mis  heart  beat. 
"We  may  meet  often  —  mayn't  we''       of   t   /. 
Wiuterbou..„e's  -or  in  the  counC ,    CouW.^t  we  be 
fnends  V    You  don't  k„o,v  how  often-'-    s  e  4™. 
away  her  wea.y  l>ead  a  moment  -gathered  st^ng™ 
begm  agam_"_  how  often  I  have  regretted  _a,t 
year,     I  «ee  now  -  that  1  behaved  -  mo'e  unkindly '' 

ttet"'  ZfT'  ",',"T*  '  ^^'■'^P^'-  "than  I  thought 
then     But  It  IS  all  done  with  -  couldn't  we  iust  be 

^n.^TvtTid^t---  -"  --  perhaps:  be'tte: 

shf:;:  a'TdaX^^"  '""'"'  ''''-''  '"'''  *'-^*" 

nestalTohln  '^w"'"'  "'*"  --l»-ri„g  dumb- 
ness  and  chill.     What  was  really  in  his  mind  was  the 

stlrM  "■"  "^"f  ""'^  ^"™™"'8  "sure.     But  h 
state —  the  moment  — coerced  him 

"We  could  not  be  anything  but  friends,"  he  said 
gently,  but  with  astonishing  difficulty;  and  ;hen  cou 
find  nothing  more  to  say.    She  knew  his  reserve  how 
ever,  and  would  not  this  time  be  repelled  ' 

»he  put  out  her  hand. 

wilif","!,"  fr  '^™'','°*"'«  •■'t  it  --"1  withdrawing  it 
witli  a  shudder  •  ""' •"  ^ 


oh 


no 


lutting  her 
often  pine 

look  soft- 

ij  bending 
3h?" 

e  is  that  I 
iaeburn ! " 

-  at  Lady 
In't  we  be 
he  turned 
trength  to 
;ed  —  last 
nkindly  " 
[  thought 
e  just  be 
ps,  better 

alternate 

ig  dumb- 
was  the 
But  her 

he  said 
3n  could 
^e,  how- 


MARCELLA.  269 

Then  suddenly  a  passion  of  tears  and  u'eniblinj? 
overcame  her.  She  leant  against  the  side  of  the  cab 
struggling  in  vain  to  regain  her  self-control,  gasping 
incoherent  things  about  the  woman  she  bad  not  been 
able  to  save.  He  tried  to  soothe  and  calm  her,  his 
own  lieart  wrung.     But  she  hardly  heard  him 

At  last  they  turned  into  Maine  Street,  and  she  saw 
tiie  gateway  of  Brown's  Buildings. 

"Here  we  are,"  she  said  faintly,  summoning  all  her 
will;  do  you  know  you  will  have  to  help  me  across 
that  court,  and  upstairs  -  then  I  shan't  be  any  more 
trouble."  "^ 

So,  leaning  on  Eaeburn's  arm,  Marcella  made  her 
slow  progress  across  the  court  of  Brown's  Buildings 
and  through  the  gaping  groups  of  children.     Then  at 
the  top  of  her  flight  of  steps  she  withdrew  herself 
irom  him  with  a  wan  smile. 
"  Now  I  am  home,"  she  said.     "  Good-bye  ' " 
Aldous  looked  round  him  well  at  Brown's  Buildings 
as  he  departed.     Then  he  got  into  a  hansom,  and  drove 
0  Lady  Winterbourne's  house,  and  implored  her  to 
fetch  and  nurse  Marcella  Boyce,  using  her  best  clever- 
ness to  hide  all  motion  of  his  in  the  matter 

After  which  he  spent -poor  Aldous! -one  of  the 
most  restless  and  miserable  nights  of  his  life 


Mi 


wing  it 


.1 


i: 


'  '  '  i 


|i    !     '      'A 


CHAPTER  XI. 


[tl 
1 1\ 


h  is 


Marcella  was  sitting  in  a  deep  and  comfortable 
ohair  at  the  open  window  of  Lady  Winterbourne's 
drawing-room.  The  house  — in  James  Street,  Buck- 
ingham Gate  —  looked  out  over  the  exercising  ground 
of  the  great  barracks  in  front,  and  commanded  the 
greenery  of  St.  James's  Park  to  the  left.  The  planes 
lining  the  barrack  railings  were  poor,  wilted  things, 
and  London  was  as  hot  as  ever.  Still  the  charm'of 
these  open  spaces  of  sky  and  park,  after  the  high 
walls  and  innumerable  windows  of  Brown's  Buildings, 
was  very  great;  Marcella  wanted  .  othing  more  but  to 
lie  still,  to  dally  with  a  book,  to  dream  as  she  pleased, 
and  to  be  let  alone. 

Lady  Winterbourne  and  her  married  daughter,  Lac^y 
Ermyntrude,  were  sMll  out,  engaged  in  the  innumer- 
able nothings  of  the  fashionable  afternoon.  Marcella 
had  her  thoughts  to  herself. 

But  they  were  not  of  a  kind  that  any  one  need  have 
wished  to  share.  In  the  i  place,  she  was  tired  of 
idleness.  In  the  early  days  citer  Lady  Winterbourne 
had  carried  her  off,  the  soft  beus  and  sofas,  the  trained 
service  and  delicate  food  of  this  small  but  luxurious 
house  had  been  so  pleasant  to  her  that  she  had  scorned 
herself  for  a  greedy  Sybaritic  temper,  delighted  by 
any  means  to  escape  from  plain  living.  But  she  had 
been  here  a  fortnight,  and  was  now  pining  to  go  back 

270 


:M! 


MABCELLA. 


271 


to  work.  Her  mood  was  too  restless  and  iransitional 
to  leave  her  long  in  love  with  comfort  and  folded 
hands.  She  told  hrrself  that  she  had  no  longer  any 
place  among  the  rich  and  important  people  of  this 
world;  far  away  beyond  these  parks  and  palaces,  in 
the  little  network  of  dark  streets  she  knew,  lay  the 
problems  and  the  cares  that  were  really  hers,  through 
which  her  heart  was  somehow  wrestling  —  must  some- 
how wrestle  —  its  passionate  way.  But  her  wrenched 
arm  was  still  in  a  sling,  and  was,  moreover,  under- 
going treatment  at  the  hands  of  a  clever  specialist; 
and  she  could  neither  go  home,  as  her  mother  had 
wished  her  to  do,  nor  return  to  her  nursing  —  a  state 
cf  affairs  which  of  late  had  made  her  a  little  silent 
and  moody. 

On  the  whole  she  found  her  chief  pleasure  in  the 
Lwo  weekly  visits  she  paid  to  the  woman  whose  life, 
it  now  appeared,  she  had  saved  — probably  at  some 
risk  of  her  own.  The  pooj  victim  would  go  scarred 
and  maimed  through  what  remained  to  her  of  exist- 
ence. But  she  lived;  and  — as  Marcella  and  Lady 
Winterbourne  and  Eaeburn  had  abundantly  made  up 
their  minds  — would  be  permanently  cared  for  and 
comforted  in  the  future. 

Alas !  there  were  many  things  that  stood  between 
Marcella  and  true  rest.  She  had  been  woefully  dis- 
appointed, nay  wounded,  as  to  the  results  of  that 
tragic  half-hour  which  for  the  moment  had  seemed 
to  throw  a  bridge  of  friendship  over  those  painful, 
estranging  memories  lying  between  her  and  Aldous 
Eaeburn.  He  had  called  two  or  three  times  since  she 
had  been  with  Lady  Winterbourne:  he  had  done  his 


fi    ;  1<'I  11 


im^n 


»«irr 


'It-  i 


■      '    ! 


272 


MARCELLA. 


best  to  make  her  inevitable  appearance  as  a  witness 
in  the  police-oourt,  as  easy  to  her  as  possible;  tlie 
man  who  had  stood  by  her  through  such  a  scene  r  3uld 
do  no  less,  in  common  politeness  and  humanity.  But 
each  time  they  met  his  manner  had  been  formal  and 
constrained;  there  had  been  little  conversation;  and 
she  had  been  left  to  the  bitterness  of  feeling  that  she 
had  made  a  strange  if  not  unseemly  advance,  of  which 
he  must  think  unkindly,  t,ince  he  had  let  it  count 
with  him  so  little. 

Childishly,  angrily —  sAe  ivanted  him  to  be  friends! 
Why  shouldn't  he?     He  would  certainly  marry  Betty 
Macdonald  in  time,  whatever  Mr.  Hallin  might  say. 
Then  why  not  put  his  pride  away  and  be  generous? 
Their  future  lives  must  of  necessity  touch  each  other, 
for  they  were  bound  to  the  same  neighbourhood,  the 
same  spot  of  earth.     She  knew  herself  to   be  her 
father's  heiress.     Mellor  must  be  hers  some  day;  and 
before  that  day,  whc  -ver  her  father's    illness,  of 
which  she  now  understood  the  incurable  though  prob- 
ably tedious  nature,  should  reach  a  certain  stage,  she 
must  go  home  and  take  up  her  life  there  again.     Wliy 
embitter  such  a  situation?  — make  it  more  difficult  for 
everybody  concerned?     Why  not  simply  bury  the  past 
and  begin  again?   In  her  restlessness  she  was  inclined 
to  think  herself  much  wiser  and  more  magnanimous 
than  he. 

Meanwhile  in  the  Winterbourne  household  she  was 
living  among  people  to  whom  Aldous  Raeburu  was  a 
dear  and  familiar  companion,  who  admired  him  with 
all  their  hearts,  and  felt  a  sympathetic  interest  alike 
in  his  private  life  and  his  public  career.     Their  circle. 


MARCELLA. 


278 


too,  was  his  circle;  and  by  means  of  it  she  now  saw 
Aldous  in  his  relations  to  his  equals  and  colleagues, 
whether  in  the  Ministry  or  the  House.     The  result 
was  a  number  of   new  impressions  which  she  half 
resented,  as  we  may  resent  the  information  that  some 
stranger  will  give  us  upon  a  subject  we  imagined 
ourselves  better  acquainted  with  than  anybody  else. 
Tlie  promise  of  Kaeburn's  political  po-ition  struck  her 
quick  mind  with  a  curious  surprise.     She  could  not 
explain  it  as  she  had  so  often  tacitly  explained  his 
place  in  Brookshire  —  by  the  mere  accidents  of  birth. 
After  all,  aristocratic  as  we  still  are,  no  party  can 
now  afford  to  choose  its  men  by  any  other  criterion 
than  personal  profitableness.     And  a  man  nowadays 
is  in  the  long  run  personally  profitable,  far  more  by 
what  he  is  than  by  what  he  has  —  so  far  at  least  has 
*'  progress  "  brought  us. 

She  saw  then  that  this  quiet,  strong  man,  with 
his  obvious  defects  of  temperament  and  manner,  had 
already  gained  a  remarkable  degree  of  "considera- 
tion," using  the  word  in  its  French  sense,  among  his 
political  contemporaries.  He  was  beginning  to  be 
reckoned  upon  as  a  man  of  the  future  by  an  inner 
circle  of  persons  whose  word  counted  and  carried; 
while  yet  his  name  was  comparatively  little  known  to 
the  public.  Marcella,  indeed,  had  gathered  her  im- 
pression from  the  most  slight  and  various  sources  — 
mostly  from  the  phrases,  the  hints,  the  manner  of  men 
already  themselves  charged  with  the  most  difficult 
and  responsible  work  of  England.  Above  all  things 
did  she  love  and  admire  power  —  the  power  of  per- 
sonal capacity.  It  had  been  the  secret,  it  was  still 
VOL.  n.  — 18 


1 

1 

ii 

|l 

Biit'i 

ij 

mi 

274 


MARCELLA. 


m 


m 


if 


half  the  secret,  of  Wharton's  influence  with  her.  She 
saw  it  here  under  wholly  different  conditions  and 
accessories.  She  gave  it  -  ^cognition  with  a  kind  of 
unwillingness.  All  the  same,  Kaeburn  took  a  new 
piace  in  her  imagination. 

Then  —  ai)art  from  the  political  world  and  its  judg- 
ments—the intimacy  between  him  and  the  Winter- 
bourne  family  showed  her  to  him  in  many  new  aspects. 
To  Lady  Winterbourne,  his  mother's  dear  and  close 
friend,  he  was  almost  a  son;   and  nothing  could  be 
more    charming   than    the   affectionate    and    playful 
tolerance  with  which  he  treated  her  little  oddities  and 
weaknesses.     And  to  all  her  children  he  was  bound 
by  the  memories  and  kindnesses  of  many  years.     He 
was  the  godfather  of  Lady  Ermyntrude's  child;  the 
hero  and  counsellor  of  the  two  sons,  who  were  both  in 
Parliament,  and  took  his  lead  in  many  things;  while 
there  was  no  one  with  whom  Lord  Winterbourne  could 
more  comfortably  discuss  county  or  agricultural  affairs. 
Li   the   old   days  Marcella  had  somehow  tended  to 
regard  him  as  a  man  of  few  friends.     And  in  a  sense 
it  was  so.     He  did  not  easily  yield  himself;  and  was 
often  thought  dull  and  apathetic  by  strangers.     But 
here,  amid  these  old  companions,  his  delicacy  and 
sweetness  of  disposition  had  full  play;  and  although, 
now  that  Marcella  was  in  their  house,  he  came  less 
often,  and  was  less  free  with  them  than  usual,  she 
saw  enough  to  make  her  wonder  a  little  that  they  were 
all  so  kind  and  indulgent  to  her,  seeing  that  they  cared 
so  much  for  him  and  all  that  affected  him. 

Well!  slie  was  often  judged,  humbled,  reproached. 
Yet  there  was  a  certain  irritation  in  it.     Was  it  all 


MARC  ELL  A. 


275 


Ig- 


her  own  fault  that  in  lier  brief  engagement  she  liad 
realised  him  so  little?  Her  heart  was  sometimes 
oddly  sore;  her  conseienoe  full  of  smart;  but  there 
were  moments  when  she  was  as  combative  as  ever. 

Nor  had  certain  other  experiences  of  this  past  fort- 
night been  any  more  soothing  to  tiiis  sore  craving 
sense  of  hers.  It  appeared  very  soon  that  nothing 
would  have  been  easier  for  her  had  she  chosen  than  to 
become  the  lion  of  the  later  season.  The  story  of  the 
Batton  Street  tragedy  had,  of  course,  got  into  the 
papers,  and  had  been  treated  there  with  the  usual 
adornments  of  the  "New  Journalism." 

The  Avorld  which  knew  the  Raeburns  or  knew  of 
them  —  comparatively  a  large  world  —  fell  with  avid- 
ity on  the  romantic  juxtaposition  of  names.     To  lose 
your  betrothed  as  Aldous  Raeburn  had  lost  his,  and 
then  to  come  across  her  again  in  this  manner  and  in 
these  circumstances  —  there  Avas  a  dramatic  neatness 
about  it  to  which  the  careless  Fate  that  governs  us  too 
seldom  attains.     London  discussed  the  story  a  good 
deal;  and  would  have  liked  dearly  to  see  and  to  ex- 
hibit the  heroine.    Mrs.  Lane  in  particular,  the  hostess 
of  the  House  of  Commons  dinner,  felt  that  she  had 
claims,  and  was  one  of  the  first  to  call  at  Lady  Win- 
terbourne's  and  see  her  guest.     She  soon  discovered 
that  Marcella  had  no  intention  whatever  of  playing 
the   lion;   and   must,  in    fact,  avoid     xcitement  and 
fatigue.     But  she  had  succeeded  in  gfting  the  girl 
to  come  to  her  once  or  twice  of  an  afternoon  to  meet 
two  or  three  people.     It  was  better  for  the  wounded 
arm  that  its  owner  should  walk  than  drive  ;  and  Mrs. 
Lane   lived   at  a  convenient   tlistance,  at  a  house  in 
Piccadilly,  just  across  the  Green  Park. 


ii       ! 


W'W\ 


I'.  ! 


276 


MARCELLA. 


Here  then,  as  in  Jaiues  Streot,  Mareolla  had  met  in 
discreet  succession  a  few  admiring  and   curious  per- 
sons, and  had  tasted  some  of  the  smaller  sweets  of 
fame.     Hut  the  nuif,niet  that  drew  her  to  the  Lanes' 
liouse   had    been   no   craving'   for   notoriety;    at   the 
present  moment  she  was   totally  indifferent  to  what 
perhaps  constitutionally  slu;    niiglit    have  liked;  the 
attraction   had  been  simply  the   occasional    presence 
there  of  Harry   Wharton.      He   excited,  puzzled,  an- 
gered, and  commanded  hov  more  th^u  ever.    She  could 
not  keep  herself  away  from   the   v    ance  of  meeting' 
him.     And  Lady  Winterbourne  neither  knew  him,  nor 
apparently  wished  to  know  him  — a  fact  which  proba- 
bly tended  to  make  Marcel  la  obstinate. 

Yet  what  pleasure  had  there  been  after  all  in  these 
meetings !     Again  and  again  she  had  seen  him  sur- 
rounded there  by  pretty  and  fashionable  women,  with 
some  of  whom  he  was  on  amazingly  easy  terms,  while 
with  all  of  them  he  talked  their  language,  and  so  far 
as  she  could  see  to  a  great  extent  lived  their  life.     The 
contradiction  of  the  House  of  Commons  evening  re- 
turned upon  her  perpetually.     She  thought  she  saw  in 
many  of  his  new  friends  a  certain  malicious  triumpli 
in  the  readiness  with  which  the  young  demagogue  had 
yielded  to  their  baits.    No  doubt  they  were  at  least 
as   much  duped  as  he.     Like   Hallin,   she   did  not 
believe  that  at  bottom  he  was  the  man  to  let  himself 
be  held  by  silken  bonds  if  it  should  be  to  his  interest 
to  break  them.     But,  meanwhile,  his  bearing  among 
these  people  — the  claims  they  and  their  amusement 
made  upon  his  time  and  his  mind  —  seemed  to  this 
girl,  who  watched  them  with  her  dark,   astonished 


MARCELi.A. 


211 


eyas,  a  kind  of  troachery  to  his  place  and  his  cause 
It  was  something  sho  had  never  dreamed  of;  and  it 
roused  her  contempt  and  irritation. 

Then  as  to  lierself.     Ho  ha<l  been  all  eagerness  in 
ins  enquiries  after  her  from  Mrs.  Lane;  and  he  never 
saw  her  in  the  Piccadilly  drawing-room  that  he  did  not 
pay  her  homage,  often  with  a  certain  extravagance 
a  kind  of  api)roj,riation,  which   Mrs.  Lane  secretly 
thought  in  bad  taste,  and  Marcella  sometimes  resented 
On  the  other  hand,  things  jarred  between  them  rre- 
quontly.     From  day  to  day  he  varied.     She  had  dreamt 
of  a  great  friendslnp  ;  but  instead,  it  was  hardly  possi- 
ble  to  <-arry  on  the  thread  of  their  relation  from  meeting 
to   meeting  with  simplicity  and  trust.     On  the  Ter- 
race he  had  behaved,  or  would  have  behaved,  if  she  had 
allowed  him,  as  a  lover.     When   they  met  again  at 
Mrs.  Lane's  he  would  be  sometimes  devoted  in  his  old 
paradoxical,  flattering  vein ;  sometimes,  she  thou.'-ht 
even  cool.      Nay,  once   or  twice   he   was   guilty"  of 
curious  little  neglects  towards  her,  generally  in  the 
presence  of  some  great  lady  or  other.     On  one  of 
these   occasions    she   suddenly   felt   herself   flushing 
from  brow  to  chin  at  the  thought --He  does  not 
want  any  one  to  suppose  for  a  moment  that  he  wishes 
to  marry  me ! " 

It  had  taken  Wharton  some  difficult  hours  to  sub- 
due m  her  the  effects  of  that  one  moment's  fancy 
lill  then  It  IS  the  sim])le  truth  to  say  that  she  had 
never  seriou-.l  -  considered  the  possibility  of  marryin- 
him.  When  it  did  enter  her  mind,  she  saw  that  it 
had  already  entered  his  — and  that  he  was  full  of 
doubts !      The  perception  had  given  to  her   manner 


f)    5 


;».'    ( 


278 


MAIWELLA. 


an  inoreaairiK  aloofiiesa  .md  prido  which  had  of  hito 
piqiUHl  Wluirton  into  «'iYortH  Irom  which  vanity,  and, 
indeed,  something'  else,  couhl  not  refrain,  if  he  was 
to  ])reserve  his  power. 

So  she  was  sitting,'  by  the  window  this  afternoon, 
in  a  mood  which  had  in  it  neither  simplicity  nor  joy. 
She  was  conscious  of  a  (icrtain  (hdl  and  balHed  feelin},' 
—  a  sense  of  humiliation  —  which  h*  -t.  Moreover 
the  scene  of  sordid  liorror  she  had  gone  through 
haunted  her  imagination  perpetually.  She  was  un- 
strung, and  the  world  weighed  upon  her  —  the  pity, 
the  ugliness,  the  confusion  of  it. 


The  muslin  curtain  beside  her  suddenly  sweUed  out 
in  a  draught  of  air.  and  she  put  out  her  hand  (piickly 
to  catch  the  Frencli  window  lest  it  should  swing  to. 
Some  one  had  opened  the  door  of  the  room. 

"Did  I  blow  you  out  of  window?"  said  a  girl's 
voice;  and  there  behind  her,  in  a  half-timid  attitude, 
stood  Betty  Macdonald,  a  vision  of  white  muslin,  its 
frills  and  capes  a  little  tossed  by  the  wind,  the  pointed 
face  and  golden  hair  showing  small  and  elf-like  under 
the  big  shady  hat. 

"  Oh,  do  come  in ! "  said  Marcella,  shyly ;  "  Lady 
Winterbourne  will  be  in  directly." 

"  So  Panton  told  me,"  said  Betty,  sinking  down  on 
a  high  stool  beside  Marcella's  chair,  and  taking  off 
her  hat;  "and  Panton  doesn't  tell  me  any  stories  noic 
—  I've  trained  him.  I  wonder  how  many  he  tells  in 
the  day  ?  Don't  you  think  there  will  be  a  special 
little  corner  of  purgatory  for  London  butlers  ?    I  hope 


Panton  will  get  off  c 


.'asy 


!  ■' 


I  »    i 


Ih 


MAIWKLLA. 


279 


il  of  late 
lity,  jiiid, 
r  he  \vii8 

fternoon, 
nor  joy. 

d  feeling' 

loicover, 
through 
was  un- 

the  pity, 


?lle(l  out 

(luickly 

wing  to. 

a  girl's 
;ittitudo, 
isliii,  its 

pointed 
:e  under 

"  Lady 

own  on 
king  off 
•ies  noic 
tells  in 
special 
I  hope 


Thon  slin  laid  hor  sharp  (^dn  on  her  tiny  hand,  and 
studied  Manudla.     Miss  Uoyce  was  in  the  light  hlaek 
dress  that  Minta  approved  ;   her  i)ale   I'aee  and  deli- 
cate  hands  stood  out  from  it  with  a  sort  of  nohlo  em- 
phasis.    When  Hetty  had  Mrst  heard  of  Mareella  Iloyce 
as  the  heroine  of  a  certain  story,  she  had  thought  oi 
her  as  a  girl  one  would  like  to  meet,  if  only  to  priek 
her  somehow  for  breaking  the  heart  of  a  good  man. 
Now  that  she  saw  her  (dose  she  felt  Inn-self  near  to 
falling  in  love  with  her.     Moreover,  the  incident  of 
the  light  and  of  Miss  JJoycci's  share  in  it  had  thrilled 
a  creature  all   susceptibility  and  curiosity;   and  the 
little  merry  thing  would  sit  hushed,  looking  at  the 
heroine  of  it,  awed  by  the  thought  of  what  a  girl  only 
two  years  older  than  herself  must  ha  e  already  seen 
of  sin  and  tragedy,  envying  her  with  all  her  heart, 
and  by  contrast  honestly  despising  —  for  the  inument 
—  that  very  happy  and  popular  person,  Betty  Mac- 
donald ! 

"Do  you  like  being  alone?"  she  asked  Mareella, 
abruptly. 

Mareella  coloured. 

"  Well,  1  was  just  getting  very  tired  of  my  own 
company,"  she  said.    "  1  was  very  glad  to  see  you  come 


in 


» 


"Were  you?"  said  Betty,  joyously,  with  a  little 
gleam  in  her  pretty  eyes.  Then  suddenly  the  golden 
head  bent  forward.  "  May  I  kiss  you  ?  "  she  said,  in 
the  wistfullest,  eagerest  voice. 

Mareella  smiled,  and,  laying  her  hand  on  Betty's, 
shyly  drew  her. 

••'That's  better  !'•■'    said  Betty,  with  a  long  breath. 


il  I 


Irl 


t.-  M 


Kf- 


280 


MABCELLA. 


"That's  the  second  milestone;  the  first  was  when  T 
saw  you  on  the  Terrace.  Couldn't  you  mark  all  your 
friendships  by  little  white  stones  ?  I  could.  But  the 
horrid  thing  is  when  you  have  to  mark  them  back 
again  !     Nobody  ever  did  that  with  you  !  " 

"  Because  I  have  no  friends,"  said  Marcella,  quickly  • 
then,  when  Betty  clapped  her  hands  in  amazement  at 
such  a  speech,  she  added  quickly  with  a  smile,  "except 
a  few  I  make  poultices  for." 

"There  !  "  said  Betty,  enviously,  "  to  think  of  being 
really  wanted  ~  for  poultices  -  or  anything !  I  never 
was  wanted  in  my  life  !  When  I  die  they'll  put  on 
my  poor  little  grave  — 

"  She's  buried  here  —  that  hizzie  Betty  ; 
She  did  na  gude  —  so  don't  ee  fret  ye  ! 

—  oh,  there  they  are!"— she  ran  to  the  window - 
"Lady   Winterbourne   and  Ermyntrude.     Doesn't  it 
make  you  laugh  to  see  Lady  Winterbourne  doing  her 
duties  ?    She  gets  into  her  carriage  after  lunch  as  one 
might   mount  a  tumbril.     I  expect  to  hear  her  tell 
the  coachman  to  drive  to  '  the  scaffold  at  Hyde  Park 
Corner.'      She  looks  the  unhappiest  woman  in  Eng- 
and-and  all   the   time    Ermyntrude   declares   she 
likes  It,  and  wouldn't  do  without  her  season  for  the 
world  !     She  gives  Ermyntrude  a  lot  of  trouble,  but 
she  IS  a  dear -a  naughty  dear -and  mothers  are 
^nch  a  chance  !     Ermyntrude  !  where  did  you  get  that 
Ix'unet?     You  got  it  without  me  — and  my  feelimrs 
won't  stand  it ! "  -^  b 

Lady  Ermyntrude  and  Betty  threw  themselves  on 
a  sofa  together,  chattering  and  laughing.     Lady  Win- 


MARCELLA. 


281 


3  when  T 
all  your 
But  the 

lem  back 

quickly ; 

eiuent  at 

"except 

of  being 
I  never 

^  put  on 


iidow  — 
•esn't  it 
)ing  her 
1  as  one 
her  tell 
ie  Park 
in  Eng- 
^es  she 
for  the 
3le,  but 
ers  are 
et  that 
eelings 

ves  on 
i  Wiii- 


terbourne  came  up  to  Marcella  and  enquired  after 
her.  She  was  still  slowly  drawing  off  her  gloves, 
when  the  drawing-room  door  opened  again. 

"  Tea,  Panton  !  "  said  Lady  Winterbourne,  without 
turning  her  head,  and  in  the  tone  of  Lady  Macbeth. 
-But  ;:he  magnificent  butler  took  no  notice. 

"Lady  Selina  Farrell!"  he  announced  in  a  firm 
voice. 

Lady  Winterbourne  gave  a  nervous  start;  then, 
with  the  air  of  a  person  cut  out  of  wood,  made  a 
slight  advance,  and  held  out  a  limp  hand  to  her 
visitor. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down  ?  "  she  said. 
Anybody  who  did  not  know  her  would  have  sup- 
posed that  she  had  never  seen  Lady  Selina  before.  In 
reality  she  and  the  Alresfords  were  cousins.  But  she 
did  not  like  Li  Selina,  and  never  took  any  pains  to 
conceal  it— a  fact  which  did  not  in  the  smallest 
degree  interfere  with  the  younger  lady's  performance 
of  her  family  duties. 

Lady  Selina  found  a  seat  with  easy  aplomb,  put  up 
her  bejewelled  fingers  to  draw  off  her  veil,  and  smil- 
mgly  prepared  herself  for  tea.    She  enquired  of  BetU 
how  she  was  enjoying  herself,  and  of  Lady  Ermyn- 
trude  how  her  husband  and  baby  in  the  country  were 
getting  on  without  her.     The  tone  of  this  last  ques- 
tion made  the  person  addressed  flush  and  draw  her- 
self up.    It  was  put  as  banter,  but  certainly  conveyed 
that  Lady  Ermyntrude  was  neglecting  her  family  for 
the   sake  of  dissipations.      Betty   meanwhile  curled 
herself  up  in  a  corner  of  the  sofa,  letting  one  pretty 
foot  swing  over  the  other,  and  watching  the  new-comer 


Il 

''    ^u 

mi  ft 

>.  ll 

V'.nn 

'    '■  1 

'ir- 

1     '  '■ 

:;} 

li'. 

^ 

,nr  I 


282 


MARCELLA. 


with  a  malicious  eye,  which  instantly  and  gleefully 
perceived  that  Lady  Selina  thought  her  attitude  un- 
graceful. 

Marcella,  of  course,  was  greeted  and  condoled  witli 
—  Lady  Selina,  however,  had  seen  her  since  the  trag- 
edy—and then  Lady  Winterbourne,  after  every  item 
of  her  family  news,  and  every  symptom  of  her  own 
and  her  husband's  health  had  been  rigorously  enquired 
into,  began  to  attempt  some  feeble  questions  of  her 
own  — how,  for  instance,  was  Lord  Alresford's  gout? 

Lady  Selina  replied  that  he  was  well,  but  much  de- 
pressed by  the  political  situation.  No  doubt  Ministers 
had  done  their  best,  but  he  thought  two  or  three 
foolish  mistakes  had  been  made  during  the  session. 
Certain  blunders  ought  at  all  hazards  to  have  been 
avoided.  He  feared  that  the  party  and  the  country 
might  have  to  pay  dearly  for  them.  But  he  had  done 
his  best. 

Lady  Winterbourne,  whose  eldest  son  was  a  junior 
whip,  had  been  the  recipient,  since  the  advent  of  the 
new  Cabinet,  of  so  much  rejoicing  over  the  final  exclu- 
sion of  "that  vain  old   idiot,  Alresford,"  from  any 
further  chances  of  muddling  a  public  department,  that 
Lady  Selina's  talk  made  her  at  once  nervous  and  irri- 
table.    She  was  afraid  of  being  indiscreet ;   yet  she 
longed  to  put  her  visitor  down.     In  her  odd  disjointed 
way,  too,  she  took  a  real  interest  in  politics.      Her 
craving  idealist  nature  — mated  with  a  cheery  sports- 
man husband  who  laughed  at  her,  yet  had  made  her 
happy  —  was  always  trying  to  reconcile  the  ends  of 
eternal  justice  with  the  measures  of  the  Tory  party. 
It  was  a  task  of  Sisyphus;  but  she  would  not  let  it 
alone. 


MARCELLA. 


283 


"  I  do  not  agree  with  you,"  she  said  with  cold  shy- 
ness in  answer  to  Lady  Selina's  concluding  laments  — 
*  i  am  told  —  our  people  say  —  we  are  doing  very 
■V.  ii  — except  that  the  session  is  likely  to  be  dread- 
fully long." 

Lady  Selina  raised  both  her  eyebrows  and  her 
shoulders. 

"  Dear  Lady  Winterbourne !  you  really  mean  it  ?  " 
she  said  with  the  indulgent  incredulity  one  shows  to 
the  simple-minded —  " But  just  think!  The  session 
will  go  on,  every  one  says,  till  quite  the  end  of  Sep- 
tember. Isn't  that  enough  of  itself  to  make  a  party 
discontented?  All  our  big  measures  are  in  dreadful 
arrears.  And  my  father  believes  so  much  of  the  fric- 
tion might  have  been  avoided.  He  is  all  in  favour  of 
doing  more  for  Labour.  He  thinks  these  Labour  men 
might  have  been  easily  propitiated  without  anything 
revolutionary.  It's  no  good  supposing  that  these  poor 
starving  people  will  wait  for  ever!" 

"  Oh ! "  said  Lady  Winterbourne,  and  sat  staring 
at  her  visitor.  To  those  who  knew  its  author  well, 
the  monosyllable  could  not  have  been  more  expressive. 
Lady  Winterbourne's  sense  of  humour  had  no  voice, 
but  inwardly  it  was  busy  with  Lord  Alresford  as  the 
"friend  of  the  poor."  Alresford!  —  the  narrowest 
and  niggardliest  tyrant  alive,  so  far  as  his  own  ser- 
vants and  estate  were  concerned.  And  as  to  Lady 
Selina,  it  was  well  known  to  the  Winterbourne 
cousinship  that  she  could  never  get  a  maid  to  stay 
with  her  six  months. 

"  What  did  you  think  of  Mr.  Wharton's  speech  the 
other  night?"  said  Lady  Selina,  beading  suavely 
across  the  tea-table  to  Marcella. 


II 


i 

1 

i! 

)      ■ 

k 

i 

284 


MARCELLA. 


h 


"It  was  very  interesting,"  said  Maroella,  stiffly — 
perfectly  conscious  that  the  name  had  pricked  the 
attention  of  (everybody  in  the  room,  and  angry  with 
her  cheeks  for  reddening. 

''Wasn't  it?"  said  Lady  Selina,  heartily.     "You 
can't  do  those   things,  of  course !     But   you  should 
show  every  sympathy  to  the  clever  enthusiastic  young 
men— the  men  like  that  —  shouldn't  you?     That's 
what  my  father  says.     He   says  we've   got  to   win 
them.     W(!'ve   got  somehow   to  make  them  feel   us 
their  friends  —  or  we  shall  all  go  to  ruin !     They  have 
the  voting  power  —  and  we  are  the  party  of  education, 
of  refinement.     If  we  can  only  lead  that  kind  of  man 
to  see  the  essential  justice  of  our  cause  —  and  at  the 
same   time  give  them  our   help  — in  reason— show 
them  we  want   to  be  their  friends— wouldn't   it  be 
beet?     I  don't  know  whether  [  put  it  rightly  — you 
know  so  much  about  these  things  !     But  we  can't  undo 
'67  — can  we?     We   must  get  round  it  somehow  — 
mustn't  we  ?    And   my  father  thinks   Ministers   so 
unwise !    But  perhaps  "  —  and  Lady  Selina  drew  her- 
self back  with  a  more  gracious  smile  than  ever  — 
"I  ought  not  to  be  saying  these  things  to  you— of 
course  I  know  you  used  to   think  us  Conservatives 
very  bad  people  —  but  Mr.  Wharton  tells  me,  perhaps 
you  don't  think  quite  so  hardly  of  us  as  you  used  ?  " 

Lady  Selina's  head  in  its  Paris  bonnet  fell  to  one 
side  in  a  gentle  interrogative  sort  of  way. 
Something  roused  in  Marcella. 
''Our  cause?"  she  repeated,  Avhile  the   dark  eye 
dilated  —  '•  I  wonder  what  you  mean  ?  " 

"Well,  1  mean  —  "  said   Lady  Selina,  seeking  for 


MAliCELLA. 


285 


the  harmless  word,  ir.  the  face  of  this  unknown 
explosive-looking  girl  — "  J  mean,  of  course,  the 
cause  of  the  educated  — of  the  people  who  have 
made  the  country." 

"I  think,"  said  Marcella,  quietly,  "you  mean  the 
cause  of  the  rich,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Marcella  !  "  cried  Lady  Winterbourne,  catching  at 
the  tone  rather  than  words  —  ''I  thought  you  didn't 
feel  like  that  any  more  —  not  about  the  distance 
between  the  poor  and  the  rich— and  our  tyranny- 
audits  being  hopeless— and  the  poor  always  hating 
us  —  I  thought  you  changed." 

And  forgetting  Lady  Selina,  remembering  only  the 
old  talks  at  Mellor,  Lady  Winterbourne  bent  forward 
and  laid  an  appealing  hand  on  Marcella's  arm. 

Marcella  turned  to  her  with  an  odd  look. 

"If  you  only  knew,"  she  said,  ''how  much  more 
possible  it  is  to  think  well  of  the  rich,  when  you  are 
living  amongst  the  ])oor  ! " 

"  Ah  I  you  must  be  at  a  distance  from  us  to  do  us 
justice  ?  "  enquired  Lady  Selina,  settling  her  bracelets 
with  a  sarcastic  lip. 

"/must,"  said  Marcella,  looking,  however,  not  at 
her,  but  at  Lady  Winterbourne.     "  But  then,  you  see," 

—  she  caressed  her  friend's  hand  with  a  smile  — "it 
is  so  easy  to  throw  some  people  into  opposition ! " 

"  Dreadfully  easy  !  "  sighed  Lady  Winterbourne. 

The  flush  mounted  again  in  the  girl's  cheek.  She 
hesitated,  then  felt  driven  to  explanations. 

"  You  see  —  oddly  enough  "  —  she  pointed  away  for 
an  instant  to  the  north-east  through  the  open  window 

—  "it's  when  I'm  over  there  — among  the  people  who 


v;;| 


tl 


■  f,/ 


Ja 


'lii 


A  !  V 


' 


286 


MARCELLA. 


«• 


have  nothing  —  that  it  does  me  good  to  remember  that 
there  are  persons  who  hve  in  James  Street,  Bucking- 
ham Gate ! "  "^ 

"  My  dear !  I  don't  understand,"  said  Lady  Winter- 
bourne,  studying  her  with  her  most  perplexed  and 
ti-agic  air. 

"Well,  isn't  it  simple  ?  "  said  Marcella,  still  holding 
her  hand  and  looking  up  at  her.  "  It  comes,  1  supt 
pose,  of  going  about  all  day  in  tliose  streets  and 
houses,  among  people  who  live  in  one  room  — with 
not  a  bit  of  prettiness  anywhere  — and  no  place  to  be 
alone  in,  or  to  rest  in.  I  come  home  and  gloat  over 
all  the  beautiful  dresses  and  houses  and  gardens  I  can 
think  of ! " 

"  But  don't  you  hate  the  people  that  have  them  ?  " 
said  Betty,  again  on  her  stool,  chin  in  hand. 

"No!  it  doesn't  seera  to  matter  to  me  then  what 
kind  of  people  they  are.  And  I  don't  so  much  want 
to  take  from  them  and  give  to  the  others.  I  only 
want  to  be  sure  that  the  beauty,  and  the  leisure,  and 
the  freshness  are  somewhere  —  not  lost  out  of  the 
world." 

"How  strange!  — in  a  life  like  yours  — that  one 
should  think  so  much  of  the  ugliness  of  being  poor  — 
more  than  of  suffering  or  pain,"  said  Betty,  musing. 

'^  Well  — in  some  moods  — you  do  — /  do!"  said 
Marcella;  "and  it  is  in  those  moods  that  I  feel  least 
resentful  of  wealth.  If  I  say  to  myself  that  the  people 
who  have  all  the  beauty  and  the  leisure  are  often  self- 
ish and  cruel  — after  all  they  die  out  of  their  houses 
and  their  parks,  and  their  pictures,  in  time,  like  the 
shell-fish  out  of  its  shelL     The  beauty  and  the  grace 


MARCELLA. 


287 


which  they  created  or  inherited  remain.  And  wliy 
should  one  he  envious  of  thew,  personally?  They 
have  had  the  best  chances  in  the  world  and  thrown 
them  away  — are  but  poor  animals  at  the  end!  At 
any  rate  I  can't  hate  th(>m  — they  seeni  to  have  a 
function  — when  1  am  moving  about  Drury  Lane!" 
she  added  with  a  smile. 

"But  how  can  one  help  being  ashamed?"  said 
Lady  Winterbourne,  as  her  eyes  wandered  over  her 
pretty  room,  and  she  felt  herself  driven  somehow  into 
playing  devil's  advocate. 

"No!  No!"  said  Marcella,  eagerly,  "don't  be 
ashamed!  As  to  the  people  who  make  beauty  more 
beautiful  —  who  share  it  and  give  it  —  I  often  feel  as 
if  T  could  say  to  them  on  my  knees,  Never,  yiever  be 
ashamed  merely  of  being  rich  —  of  living  with  beau- 
tiful things,  and  having  time  to  enjoy  them !  One 
might  as  well  be  ashamed  of  being  strong  rather  than 
a  cripple,  or  having  two  eyes  ratner  than  one  ! " 

''Oh,  but,  my  dear!"  cried   Lady   Winterbourne, 
piteous  and  bewildered,  ''  when  one  has  all  the  beauty 

and  the  freedom  —and  other  people  must  die  without 
any  —  " 

"  Oh,  I  know,  I  knoic!"  said  Marcella,  with  a  quick 
gesture  of  despair;  "that's  what  makea  the  world 
the  world.  And  one  begins  with  thinking  it  can  be 
changed  — that  it  mnst  and  s/m/Z  be  changed  !  — that 
everybody  could  have  wealth  —  could  have  beauty  and 
rest,  and  time  to  think,  that  is  to  say —  if  things  were 
different  — if  one  could  get  Socialism  — if  onl  could 
beat  down  the  capitalist— if  one  could  level  down,  and 
level  up,  till  everybody  had  200/.  a  year.     One  turns 


!f" 


tt 


If 

■  sh 

!  * 

||; 

i  i 

1 

[ 

i 

t 
I- 


288 


MARCELLA. 


\im 


and  fingers  the  pu/.zlo  all  dny  long.  It  soonis  so  nc  /, 
coming  right  — one  guesses  a  hundred  ways  in  which 
It  might  be  done!  Tlien  after  a  while  one  stumbles 
upon  doubt  — one  begins  to  see  that  it  never  will 
never  can  come  right  — not  in  any  meehanioal  way  of 
that  sort— that  that  isn't  what  was  meant!" 

Her  voice  dropped  drearily.    Betty  Macdonald  gazo.l 
at  her  with  a  girl's  nascent  adoration.     Lady  Winter- 
bourne  was  looking  puzzled  and  unhappy,  but  absorbed 
like  Betty  in  Marcella.      Lady  Selina,  studying  the 
three  with  smiling  composure,  was  putting  on  her  veil 
with  the  most  careful  attention  to  fringe  and  hairpins' 
As  for  Erinyntrude,  she  was  no  longer  on  the  sofa- 
she  had  risen  noiselessly,  finger  on  lip,  almost  at  the 
beginning  of  Marcella's  talk,  to  greet  a  visitor      She 
and  he  were  standing  at  the  back  of  the  room,  in  the 
opening  of  the  conservatory,  unnoticed  by  any  of  the 
group  in  the  bow  window. 

''  Don't  you  think,"  said  Lady  Selina,  airily,  her 
white  fingers  still  busy  with  her  bonnet,  '^hat  it 
would  be  a  very  good  thing  to  send  all  the  Kadicals 
—  the  well-to-do  Radicals  I  mean  — to  live  among  the 
poor  ?  It  seems  to  teach  people  such  extremely  use- 
ful things ! " 

Marcella  straightened  herself  as  though  some  one 
had  touched  her  impertinently.  She  looked  round 
quickly. 

"  I  wonder  what  you  suppose  it  teaches  ?  " 
"Well,"  said  Lady  Selina,  a  little  taken  aback  and 
hesitating ;  "  well !  I  suppose  it  teaches  a  person  to 
be  content  — and  not  to  cry  for  the  moon  !  " 

"  You  think,"  said  Marcella,  slowly,   « that  to  live 


M  E  . 


M ARC  ELL  A. 


289 


amon.i?  tho  poor  can  tcadi  anyono  — any  one  that's 
human.— U)  he  rontont!" 

Her  niaiUHT  had  tho  iinoon.soioua  intensity  of  em- 
phasis, tlie  (li-amatio  foree  tliat  eanie  to  her  from 
another  hh)o.l  than  ours.  Another  woman  eouhl 
hardly  liave  laHen  into  sueh  a  tone  without  affeeta- 
tion  — witliout  pose.  At  this  moment  eertainly  lietty, 
who  was  watching  her,  aecjuitted  her  of  either,  and 
warmly  thought  her  a  magnific(;nt  creature. 

Lady  Selina's  feeling  simply  was  that  she  had  been 
ro.ighly  addressed  by  her  social  inferior.  She  drew 
herself  up. 

"As  I  understand  you,"  she  said  stiffly,  "you  your- 
self confessed  that  to  live  with  poverty  had  led  you 
to  think  more  reasonably  of  Avealth." 

Suddenly  a  movement  of  Lady  Ermyntrude's  made 
the  speaker  turn  her  head.  She  saw  the  pair  at  the 
end  of  the  room,  looked  astonished,  then  smiled. 

''Why,  .Afr.  Raeburn!  where  have  vou  been  hiding 
yourself  during  this  great  discussion  ?  .Afost  con- 
soling, wasn't  it  — on  the  whole  — to  us  West  End 
people  ?  " 

She  threw  back  a  keen  glance  at  Marcella.  Lady 
Ermyntrude  and  Eaeburn  came  forward. 

"  I  made  him  be  quiet,"  said  Ermyntrude,  not  look- 
ing, however,  quite  at  her  ease;  ''it  would  have  been 
a  shame  to  interrupt." 

"I  think  so,  indeed!"  said  Lady  Selina,  with  em- 
phasis. '•  Good-bye.  dear  Lady  Winterbourne ;  good- 
bye, Miss  Boyce  !  You  have  comforted  me  very  much  ' 
Of  course  one  is  sorry  f.n-  the  poor:  but  it  is^a  ^re-it 
thing  to  hear  from  anybody  who  knows  as  much  about 

VOL.  II. —  19 


ii^i 


% 


■I   ,' 


ff 


t 


\i 


I'M 


21)0 


MAnCKLLA. 


■jilLcir  all  —  it   is   tio  criino 


to 


IS 


it  aa  ynu  do,  Miut 
possess  ii.  little!" 

She  stood  sinilin.^r,  lookin-  In,,,,  tl.c  -i,|  to  the 
man-th.Mi.  ..seorted  l.y  i;;„.l.inn  in  l.is  very  stilTest 
nmmier,  she  swrjM,  out  oT  th.!  loon,. 

VVh.M.  ,\l.h,„s  e;ii,„.  hack,  with  ii  sc.m.nvhat  slow 
*■'"''  ^i<"'^'^"f"ig  step,  he  approach,.,!  AUn-Hla,,  who 
w;.s  stan.lm.n:  sih-nt  l.y  th,.  window,  and  a,sk,.,|  alter 
the  lam.,  arm.  II,.  was  .,)rry,  h,-  said,  to  see  that  it 
wus  still  ,n  Its  slin,^^  [[is  tone  was  a  little  abrupt 
Only  Lady  Wmterbourne  saw  the  qnick  nervousness 
of   the  ,'yt's. 

*'0h:   thank  you,"  said  Mareella,  coldly,  *' [  shall 
get  back  t,)  w,)rk  next  week." 

She  stooped  and  took  up  her  book. 

''  1  must  please  go  and  writ,'  some  letters,"  she  said 
in  answer  to  Lady  Winterbourne's  flurried  look 

An,l  she  walked  away,     l^etty  and  La,ly  Ermyn- 
trude  also  went  to  take  off  their  things. 

'-Aldous!"  said  Lady  Winterbourne,  holding  out 
her  hand  to  him. 

He  took  it,  glanced  unwillingly  at  her  wistful, 
agitated  face,  pressed  the  hand,  and  let  it  go. 

"Lsn't  it  sad,"  said  his  old  friend,  unalle  to  help 
herself,  -to  see  her  battling  like  this  with  life  — 
with  thought  —  all  alone  ?     Isn't  it  sad,  Aldous  '^ " 

"Yes,"  he  said.  Then,  after  a  pause,  -Why 
doesiiH  she  go  home  ?  My  patience  gives  out  when  "l 
think  of  Mrs.  Boyce." 

''Oh  !  it  isn't  Mrs.  Joyce's  fault,"  said  Ladv  Win- 
terbourne, hopelessly.  -And  I  don't  know  why  one 
should  be  sorry  for  her  particularly- why  one  shoidd 


MAJif'KLLA. 


291 


want,  h,'v  fu  ,.li;.„^n.  |„.,  ]),•,.  ,^,.,i,,      ,.,,,.  ,,^^^^^  .^  ^^^,^^^_ 

'Ii'lly.      On.y    I    ,H.v.,r,   ««««r  f(,(,l    tha^,  .sli«;  is  a  bit 
liii|»|'.V  '"  it-" 

It  was  Ifjilliii's  cvy  ovfsr  ajjairi. 

\li'  said  rif.thii.K  lor  a  i/ionifMit;  then  ho.  forcorl  a 

sniild. 

"  Wc.ll :  uvithuv  yo„  nr.r  I  ran  hflp  it,  can  ^vo  v"  he 
said.    Tlu,  ^vo.y  o.yvH  Ir.r.k.-d  at,  Imt  steadily  _  hifterly 
Larly  \Vint(M-boun,f.,  vvitl,  the  sensation  of  on-  who 
looking  for  softness,  has  lit  on  granite,  changed  the 
subjc<'t. 

Meanwhile,  Marcella  upstairs  was  walking  restlessly 
up  und  down.  She  could  hardly  keep  herself  from 
rushing  off -back  to  Brown's  buildings  at  once. 
He  m  the  room  while  she  was  saving  those  things' 
Lady  Selina's  words  burnt  in  her  ears.  Her  nu>rbid' 
irritable  sense  was  all  one  vibration  of  pride  and  re- 
volt. A2,ology  _  aj.peal  _  un.ler  the  neatest  comedy 
guise!  Of  course! -now  that  Lord  Ma.xwell  was 
dying,  and  the  ill-used  suitor  was  so  much  the  nearer 
to  his  earldom.  A  foolish  girl  had  repented  her  of 
her  lolly  -  uas  anxious  to  make  those  concerned 
understand  —  what  more  simple  ? 

Her  nerves  were  strained  and  out  of  gear.  Tears 
came  m  a  proud,  passionate  gush ;  and  she  must  needs 
allow  herself  the  relief  of  them. 

Meanwhile,  Lady  Selina  had  gone  home  full  of  new 
and  uncomfortable  feelings.     Sh.  could  not  get  Mar- 
cella Boyce  out  of  her  head -neither  as  she  had'iu.t 
seen  her,  under  the   wing   of  -that  foolish    wnn;.:. 
Madeleine  Wmterbourne,"'  nor  as  she  had   .een"her 


r  * 

f 


«! 


il 

i 


292 


MAIWKLLA. 


Hrst,  ..n  tho  t.MTaco  uiM.  Vvivvy  Wharton.      It  ili.l  not 
ploiisp  La.ly  Sclinii  to  rn-l  ImtscII'  in  auv  way  ('cliiKscd 
or  ..von  riviill.Hl  by  su.-li  an   in.in.|.<.rtant  p..rs„n  us 
this  stniiij,'..  and   ridicnhnis  ^xv\.     W-t  it  orossod  her 
mind  >vitli  ii  8ta,h,jiH8ho  hiy  ivstin-  on  the  sofa  in  h.r 
litth'   .siKin-.rooni    iMdorc   dinn.-,.,    th;it    never   in  all 
li.T  thirty-tivo  yoars  had  any  hnnian  hoing  looked  into 
h.r  lace  with  the  same  altiM-nations  of  (.a^erness  a,nd 
sail  tied  ])lea,snre  she  had  seen  „n  Harry  Wharton's 
as  he  and  Miss  Hoyce  strolh'd  tlu^  t.-rraire  to^r.-thei  J 
nor  even  with  such  a  look  as  that  silly  baby  li-tty 
Afacdonald  had  put  on,  as  she  sat  on  the  stofd  at  the 
hero'ne's  feet. 

There  was  to  be  a  small  dinner-parfv  at  Alresford 
House  that  nij^ht.  Wharton  was  to  Ix^  anionj,'  the 
guests.  He  was  fast  becoming,'  one  of  the  hahitH^s  of 
the  house,  and  would  often  stay  behind  to  talk  to 
Lady  Selina  when  the  guests  were  gone,  and  Lord 
Alresford  was  dozing  peacefully  in  a  deep  arm-chair. 

Lady  Selina  lay  still  in  the  evening  litrht,  and  let 
her  mind,  which  worked  with  extraordinary  shrewd- 
ness and  force  in  the  grooves  congenial  to  it,  run  over 
some  possibilities  of  the  future. 

She  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  her  maid, 
who,  with  the  quickened  breath  and  heightened  colour 
she  could  not  repress  when  speaking  to  her  formidable 
mistress,  told  her  that  one  of  the  younger  housemaids 
was  very  ill.  Lady  Selina  encpiired,  found  that  the 
doctor  who  always  attended  the  servants  had  been 
sent  for,  and  thought  that  the  illness  might  turn  to 
rheumatic  fever. 

"Oh,  send  her  off  to  the  hospital  ;it  once!"  said 


MAlKHhLA. 


298 


Wly  SHinn.    "Lot  Mrs.  8t.wart  sh-  Dr.  Hriggs  first 
tlH.^'  u,   t.H  morning,  ai.  :-..ke  arrungenH-ntV     V.u 

Tho  K.r)  !..sitat.cl,  and  tiu-  .anrll.s  she  was  lighting 
showi'd  that  si,..  ]vm{  Ih.u,  (-ryinK'. 

"If  your  ladyship  would  hut  h-t  h.r  stay."  sh.  said 
^— <"y,  "  -^^^^\  all  take  our  turn  -,  ut  nursing  her      SI. 

;^s-n.lr,.l,u.l,,.H.psyouMlr.nend^r..vl.^ 
She     n     fnends  ,n  London,  an.l  she's  frighte  ...1  to 
<l<'|itl'ol  going  to  the  hospital.-' 

1  liat  s    nonscimp  '  "    u-ii,!     t  ,.  t      c.  i- 
i.u  ..  •   ,    ^'"•^^-       •'"ii'l     i-ady    Srlma,    sternl?. 

,  „'  ';,i:";  '^ ^ '  -"  i-"-  "H  ti...  ...k  ,„■  th„  h„ufe 

imt  out  bo«,„so  »„„„  „„„  i,  ii, .,    ..^1,^ 

Cv    K     r     '"r™«^»-""'  '"  l-k  out  for  .o„:.- 
oody  else  at  once," 

'n.o  (-irrs  „,„uth  set  .,ull™ly  as  she  ,ve„t  about  her 

CO  Iti  ;  "'/"'''■"°'-"'"-'  '!■<>  ^■••TioMs  „o«-,lers  a„,l 
T'l    t,  ^''":,>™""1  '■<>>■  I^"'b-  ^elina-s  toilette. 

•11.1  all  tl,,.  time  there  was    ringing,  .,   j.er  e-,rs  th, 
l"t"ous  ery  of  a  little  Irish  girl,  di,^i„  ,     ke  a  eWU 
"  .-  only  friend :  «.  0  Marie ;  dear  MaHe    Jo  ^^e 
to  le    me  stay -1,1  „o  everything  the  ,i.,ctor  t'e  ^  „ 
-     1   nake  ,u,s,e  and  get  well-,-,,  gi,     „o  ,,Se 
■  ."1  .t  s  all  along  of  the  work -and  the  damp  up  i 
these  rooms  —  the  doctor  .said  so  "  ^ 

An  hour  later  Lady  Selina  was  in  the  s;  .telv  draw 

>e  w ..  out  of  sorts  and  fn.per.  an,l  thoug     Wharton 
•"■■■'7'1  >n  <lue  tiu,e.  and  she  had  the  ,n.os„eet  -o  enlke 
h.'rdur  n.rdii,,,,,,.      ...i,„„  i  '.     '         "cninen 

=  - —  «heu  l,u  v.as  of  uecess::y  parted 


1 

I 

;]    J 

■i7        ■■} 

if     ! 

t 

:f 

I    i 


•I  n 


III       I 


u. 


I    ' 


294 


MARCELLA. 


from  her  by  people  of  higher  rank  — of  ;i  tHe-a-me 
with  him  before  the  evening  was  over,  the  dinner  went 
heavily.  The  Duke  on  her  right  hand,  and  the  Dean 
on  her  left,  were  equally  distasteful  to  her.  Neither 
food  nor  wine  had  savour;  and  once,  when  in  an  in- 
terval of  talk  she  caught  sight  of  her  father's  face  and 
form  at  the  further  end,  growing  more  vacant  and 
decrepit  week  by  week,  she  was  seized  with  a  sudden 
angry  pang  of  revolt  and  repulsion.  Her  father  wearied 
and  disgusted  her.  Life  was  often  triste  and  dull  in 
the  great  house.  Yet,  wlien  the  old  man  should  have 
found  his  grave,  she  would  be  a  much  smaller  person 
than  she  was  now,  and  the  days  would  be  so  nmch  the 
more  tedious. 

Wharton,  too,  showed  less  than  his  usual  animation. 
She  said  to  herself  at  dinner  that  he  had  the  face  of  a 
man  in  want  of  sleep.  His  young  brilliant  look  was 
somewhat  tarnished,  and  there  was  worry  in  the  rest- 
less eye.  And,  indeed,  she  knew  that  things  had  not 
been  going  so  favourably  for  him  in  the  House  of  late 
—  that  the  stubborn  opposition  of  the  little  group  of 
men  led  by  Wilkins  was  still  hindering  that  concen- 
tration of  the  party  and  definition  of  his  own  foremost 
place  in  it  which  had  looked  so  close  and  probable  a 
few  weeks  before.  She  supposed  he  had  been  exhaust- 
ing himself,  too,  over  tliat  shocking  Midland  strike. 
The  Clarion  had  been  throwing  itself  into  the  battle 
of  the  men  with  a  monstrous  violence,  for  which  she 
had  several  times  reproached  him. 

When  all  the  guests  had  gone  but  Wharton,  and 
Lord  Alresford,  duly  i)laced  for  the  sake  of  pi'opriety 
in  his  accustomed  chair,  was  safely  asleep,  Lady  Selina 
asked  what  was  the  matter. 


MARCELLA. 


295 


"  Oh,  the  usual  thing ! "  he  said,  as  he  leant  against 
the  mantelpiece  beside  her.  "The  world's  a  poor 
place,  and  my  doll 's  stuffed  with  sawdust.  Did  you 
ever  know  any  doll  that  wasn't  ?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  a  moment  without  speaking. 

"  Which  means,"  she  said,  ''  that  you  can't  get  your 
way  in  the  House  ?  " 

"No,"  said  AVliurton,  meditatively,  looking  down  at 
his  boots.     "  No  —  not  yet." 

"  You  tliink  you  will  get  it  some  dr.y  ?  " 

He  raised  his  eyes. 

"  Oh  yes  !  "  he  said ;  "  oh  dear,  yes !  —  some  day." 

She  laughed. 

"  You  had  better  come  over  to  us." 

"  Well,  there  is  always  that  to  think  of,  isn't  there  ? 
You  can't  deny  you  want  all  the  new  blood  you  can 
get ! " 

^'If  you  only  understood  your  moment  and  your 
chance,"  she  said  quickly,  "  you  would  make  the  op- 
portunity and  do  it  at  once." 

He  looked  at  her  aggressively. 

"  How  easy  it  comes  to  you  Tories  to  rat ! "  he  said. 

"Thank  you!  it  only  means  that  we  are  the  party 
of  common  sense.  Well,  I  have  been  talking  to  your 
Miss  Boyce." 

He  started. 

"  Where  ?  " 

"  At  "Lady  Winterbourne's.  Aldous  Raeburn  was 
there.  Your  beautiful  Socialise  was  very  interesting 
—  and  rather  surprising.  She  talked  of  the  advan- 
tages of  wealth ;  said  she  had  been  converted  —  by 
living  among  the  poor  —  had  changed  her  mind,  in 
fact,  on  many  things.     We  were  all  mucli  edilied 


It 

i 

i 
1 

'  i!  :   .::, 

ri   ! 

t 

f .  f'if 


11 


296 


MAltCELLA. 


including  Mr.  llaoburn.  How  long  do  ycni  suppose 
that  business  will  remain  '  oif' ?  To  my  mind  J 
never  saw  a  young  woman  more  eager  to  undo  a 
mistake."  Then  she  added  slowly,  -The  accounts  of 
Lord  Maxwell  g(>t,  more  and  more  unsatisfactory." 

AVharton  stared  at  her  with  sparkling  eyes  "  How 
little  you  know  her ! "  he  said,  not  without  a  tone  of 
contempt. 

"Oh!  very  well,"  said  Lady  Selina,  with  the 
slightest  shrug  of  her  white  shoulders. 

He  turned  to  the  mantelpiece  and  began  to  play 
with  some  ornaments  u])on  it. 

"Tell  me  what  she  said,"  he  enquired  presently. 
Lady  Selina  gave  her  own  account  of  the  conversa- 
tion.    Wharton  recovered  himself. 

"Dear  me!"  he  said,  when  she  stopped.     "  Yes  — 
well  —  we  may  see  another  act.    Who  knows  '''     Well 
good-night,  Lady  Scdina." 

She  gave  him  her  hand  with  her  usurd  aristocrat's 
passivity,  and  he  went.  But  it  was  late  indeed  that 
night  before  she  ceased  to  speculate  on  what  the  real 
eftect  of  her  words  had  been  upon  him. 

As  for  Wharton,  on  his  walk  home  he  thought  of 
Marcella  Boyce  and  of  Raeburn  with  a  certain  fever 
of  jealous  vanity  which  was  coming,  he  told  himself 
dangerously  near  to  passion.     He  did  not  believe  Ladv 
.^elina  but  nevertheless  he  felt  that  her  news  mio-h^t 
drive  hmi  into  rash  ste])s  he  could  ill  afford,  and  had 
indeed  been  doing  his  best  to  avoid.     Meanwhile   it 
was  clear  to  him  that  the  mistress  of  Alresford  House 
had  taken  an  envious  dislike  to  Marcella.     How  plain 
she  had  looked  to-night  in  spite  of  her  gorgeous  dress  t 
and  how  intolerable  Lord  Alresford  -rew ' 


CHAPTER   XII. 


But  what  riglit  had  Wharton  to  be  thinking  of  sucAi 
irrelevant  matters  as  women  and  kjve-making  at  all  Y 
He  had  spoken  of  public  worries  to  Lady  Selina.  In 
reality  his  [mblic  prospects  in  themselves  were,  if  any- 
tldng,  improved.  It  was  his  private  affairs  that  were 
rushing  fast  on  catastrophe,  and  threatening  to  drag  the 
rest  with  them. 

He  had  never  been  so  hard  pressed  for  money  in  his 
life.    In  the  first  place  his  gambling  debts  had  mounted 
up  prodigiously  of  late.    His  friends  were  tolerant  and 
easy-going.    But  the  more  tolerant  they  were  the  more 
he  was  bound   to  frequent  them.     And  his  luck  for 
some  time  had  been  monotonously  bad.     Before  long 
these  debts  must  be  i:»aid,  and  some  of  them  — to  a  figure 
he  shrank  from  dwelling  upon  — were  already  urgent. 
Then  as  to  the  Clarion,   it   became  every  week  a 
heavier  burden.     The  expenses  of  it  were  enormous ; 
the  returns  totally  inadequate.     Advertisements  were 
falling  off  steadily  ;  and  whether  the  workingcost  were 
'■ut  down,  or  whether  a  new  and  good  man  like  Louis 
Craven,  whose  letters  from  the  strike  district  were  being 
now  universally  read,  were  put  on,  the  result  finan''- 
oially  seemed  to  be  i)recisely  the  same.    It  was  becom- 
ing even  a  desperate  question  how  the  weekly  expenses 
^vere  to  be  met :  so  that  Wharton's  usual  good  tem])er 
now  deserted  him  fntiroly  as  soon  as  he  had  crossed 


207 


111 


298 


MAIiCELLA. 


tlie  Clanon  thresliold ;  bitterness  had  l)ecoine  the 
portion  of  the  staff,  and  even  the  ofHee  boys  walked 
in  gloom. 

Yet,  at  the  same  time,  withdrawing  from  the  busi- 
ness w\as  almost  as  diiHcult  as  earrying  it  on.     There 
were  rumours  in  tlu;  air  which  had  already  s.u'iously 
damaged  the  paper  as  a  saleable  concern.  "  Wharton, 
indeed,  saw  no  prospect  whatever  of  selling  exe('])t  at 
ruinous  loss.     Meanwhile,  to  bring  the  paper  to  an 
abrupt  end  would  have  not  only  precipitated  a  num- 
ber of  his  financial  obligations ;  it  would  have  been 
politically,  a  dangerous  confession  of  failure  made  at 
a  very  critical  moment.     For  what  made  the  whol' 
thing  the  more  annoying  was    that  the  Clanon  had 
never  been  so  important   politically,  never  so  much 
read  by  the  persons  on  whom  Wharton's  parliamentary 
future  depended,  as  it  was   at   this   moment.      The 
advocacy  of  the  Damesley  strike  had  been  so  far  a 
stroke  of  business  for  Wharton  as  a  Labour  Member. 
It  was  now  the  seventh  week  of  the   strike,  and 
Wharton's  '' leaders,"  Craven's  letters  from  the  seat 
of  war,  and  the  Clarion   strike  fund,  which  articles 
and  letters  had  called  into  existence,  were  as  vigorous 
as  ever.     The  struggle  itself  had  fallen  into  two^'chap- 
ters.     In  the  first  the  metal-workers  concerned,  both 
men  and  Avomen,  had  stood  out  for  the  old  wages 
unconditionally  and  had  stoutly  rejected  all  idea^"'of 
arbitration.     At  the  end  of  three  or  four  weeks,  how- 
ever, when  grave  suffering  had  declared  itself  among 
an  already  half-starved  population,  the  workers  had 
consented  to  take  part  in  the  appointment  of  a  board 
of  conciliation.     This  board,  including  the  workmen's 


MARCELLA. 


299 


ecome  tlie 
>ys  walked 

I  the  busi- 
)ii.  There 
f'  seriously 

VVliarton. 
:  excej)t  lit 
iper  to  an 
id  a  uum- 
have  been 
J  made  at 
bhe  whol' 
arion  had 

so  much 
amentary 
lit.      The 

so  far  a 

Member, 
rike,  and 

the  seat 
1  articles 
vigorous 
wo  chap- 
led,  both 
^d  wages 
[  idea  of 
iks,  how- 
f  among 
cers  had 
a  board 
>rkmen's 


delegates,  overawed  by  the  facts  of  foreign  competi- 
tion as  they  were  disclosed  by  the  masters,  recom- 
mended terms  which  would  have  amounted  to  a  victory 
for  the  employers. 

The  award  was  no  sooin-r  known  in  the  district  tlian 
the  passionate  indignation  of  the  great  majority  of 
the  workers  knew  no  bounds.  Meetings  were  held 
every  when;;  the  men's  delegates  at  the  board  were 
thrown  over,  and  Craven,  who  with  his  new  wife  was 
travelling  incessantly  over  the  whole  strike  area, 
wrote  a  letter  to  the  CUirion  on  the  award  which 
stated  the  men's  case  with  extreme  ability,  was  imme- 
diately backed  u])  l)y  Wharton  in  a  tremendous 
"  leader,"  and  was  received  among  the  strikers  with 
tears  almost  of  gratitude  and  enthusiasm. 

Since  then  all  negotiations  had  been  broken  off. 
The  Clarion  had  gone  steadily  against  the  masters, 
against  the  award,  against  further  arbitration.  The 
theory  of  the  "living  wage,"  of  which  more  recent 
days  have  heard  so  much,  was  preached  in  other 
terms,  but  with  equal  vigour;  and  the  columns  of 
the  Clarion  bore  witness  day  by  day  in  the  long  lists 
of  subscriptions  to  the  strike  fund,  to  the  effects  of 
its  eloquence  on  the  hearts  and  pockets  of  English- 
men. 

]\reanwhile  there  were  strange  rumours  abroad.  It 
was  said  that  the  trade  was  really  on  the  eve  of  a 
complete  and  striking  revolution  in  its  whole  condi- 
tions—could  this  lal)0ur  war  be  only  cleared  out  of 
the  way.  The  smaller  employers  had  been  for  long 
on  the  verge  of  ruin;  and  the  larger  men,  so  report 
had  it,  were  scheming  a  syndicate  on  the  American 


1 1 


?«u 


i.  f  1 ; 
1 


If; 


300 


MA  lie  ELLA. 


if  is 


plan  to  oinbraeo  tl.o  wholo  industry,  out  clown  the  costs 
ot  production,  and  rcj^uliit."  tl.c  output. 

15ut  for  this  lari^M.  ,,,,,if,,I  ^ould  Im,  wanted.     Co.dd 
capital  bo  ,otJ      The   state   of  things   in   the   t. 
aoeordu.,-  to  the  employers,  had  been  <Ieplorahle  L 
yoafs ;  a  lar^^e  part  of  the  market  had   b(,en  delinit.-lv 
oHoited,  so  they  declared,  for  ,<,od,  to  Gennany 
IH^ium.     It  would  take  years  before  oven  a  powerlul 
syndicate  eonld  work  itself  into  a  thorou.hlV  sound 
condition      Let  the  men  accept  the  award  of  L  c-o  - 
cihation  board  ;  let  there  be  some  stable  and  reasonal)le 
prospect  ot  peace  between  masters  and  men,  say,  for  . 
couple  of  years;  an.l  a  certain  group  of  bankers  ^ould 
come  forwanl;  aiul  all  would  be  well.    The  men  under 
the  syndicate  would  in  time  get  more  than  their  old 
wage     But  the  award  first ;  otherwise  the  plan  dropped 
and  the  mdustry  must  go  its  own  way  to  per.lition      ' 
Will  you  Avalk  into  my  parlour?'"  said  Wharton 
scornfully,  to  the  young  Conservative  member  who' 
with  a  purpose,  was  explaining  these  things  to  him  in' 
the  library  of  the  House  of  Commons,  -  the  merest  trap ' 
ami,  of  course,  the  men  will  see  it  so.      Who  is  to 
guarantee  them  even  the  carrying  through,  much  less 
tiie  success,  of  your  precious  syndicate  ?  And   in  iv 
turn  for  your  misty  millennium  two  years  hence,  the 
men  are  to  .^om  at  once  in  putting  the  employers  in  a 
stronger  position  than  ever?     Thank  you!     The  ^ rent 
of  ability'  in  the  present  state  of  things  is,  no  doubt, 
large.     But  in  this  particular  case  the  Clarion  will  .0 

iTaway  ' '' ''  ^'''  ~  ^  ^'''""''  ^"^  ~  '"  "^^^^^^  ^«"^^  ^^^ 
The  Conservative  member  rose  in  indignati,  .. 


MAIICKLLA. 


301 


'•  T  should  bo  Horry  to  havf  ,'i.s  many  starving'  poople 
on  juy  conHcuoiiw  as  you'll  have  bfifore  long!"  lie  said 
as  ho  took  up  his  papors. 

At  that  moinnut  Dnnny's  rotund  and  square-hoadod 
fi^'ure  pass(,fl  along  tho  corridor,  to  which  the  library 
door  stood  o])nn. 

''Well,  if  I  thrive  upon  it  as  u<dl  as  Denny  does,  I 
shall  do!"  rfiturned  Wharton,  with  his  usual  caustic 
good-humour,  as  his  companion  departed. 

And  it  delighted  him  to  think  as  he  walked  home 
that  Denny,  who  had  again  of  late  n,ade  himself  par- 
ticularly  obnoxious  in  th<;  House  of  Commons,  on  two 
or  three  occasions,  to  the  owiun-  of  the  Cln.rim,.,  had 
probably  instigated  the  quasi-overtures  he  h-1   just 
rejoct-d,  and  mu-^  be  by  now  aware  of  their  result. 
Then  he  sent  for  Craven  to  come  and  confer  with  him. 
Craven  accordingly  came  up  from   the    \Iidlands, 
pale,  thin,    and   exhausted,   with   the   exertions   and 
emotions  of  seven  weeks'  incessant  labour.     Yet  per- 
sonally Wharton  found  him,  as  before,  drv  and  unsvm- 
..athetic;  and  disliked  him,  and  his  cool  aml)iguous 
manner,  more  than  ever.     As  to  the  strike,  however, 
tiif^y  came  to  a  complete  understanding.    The  Clarion 
or  rather  the  Clarion  fund,  which  was  doing  better 
and  better,  held  the  key  of  the  whole  situation.     If 
that  fund  could  be  maintained,  the  men  could  hold 
out.     In  view  of  the  possible  formation  of  the  svndi- 
cate,  Craven  denounced  the  award  with  more  fierceness 
than  ever,  maintaining  the  redoubled  importance  of 
securing  the  men's  terms  before  the  syndicate   was 
launched.     W^harton  promised  him  with  glee  that  he 
should  be  supported  to  the  bitter  end. 


j-  if 


302 


MARCELLA. 


If,  that  is  to  say— a  proviso  he  did  not  discuss 
with  Craven— the  Clarion  itself  could  be  kept  goiii-. 
In  August  a  large  sum,  obtained  two  years  before  ou 
the  security  of  new  ^'  plant,"  would  fall  due.  The 
time  for  repayment  had  already  been  extended;  and 
Wharton  had  ascertained  that  no  further  extension 
was  possible. 

Well !  bankruptcy  would  be  a  piquant  interlud(^  in 
his  various  social  and  political  enterprises  !  How  was 
it  to  be  avoided  ?  He  had  by  now  plenty  of  rich  friends 
in  the  City  or  elsewhere,  but  none,  as  he  finally 
decided,  iq^ely  to  be  useful  to  him  at  the  present 
moment.  For  tixC  amount  of  money  that  he  required 
was  large  —  larger,  indeed,  than  he  cared  to  verify 
with  any  strictness,  and  the  security  that  he  could 
offer,  almost  nil. 

As  to  friends  in  t^  -  City,  indeed,  the  only  excursion 
of  a  business  kind  that  he  had  made  into  those  regions 
since  his  election  was  now  adding  seriously  to  his 
anxieties  —  might  very  well  turn  out,  unless  the 
matter  were  skilfully  managed,  to  be  one  of  the 
blackest  spots  on  his  horizon. 

In  the  early  days  of  his  parliamentary  life,  when, 
again,  mostly  for  the  Clarion's  sake,  money  happened 
to  be  much  wanted,  he  had  become  director  of  what 
promised  to  be  an  important  company,  through  the 
interest  and  good  nature  of  a  new  and  rich  acquaint- 
ance, who  had  taken  a  liking  to  the  young  member. 
The  company  had  been  largely  "  boonied,"  and  there 
had  been  some  very  profitable  dealing  in  the  original 
shares.  Wharton  had  made  two  or  three  thousand 
pounds,  and  contributed  both  point  and  linish  to  some 
of  the  early  prospectuses. 


!      ' 


MARC  ELL  A. 


808 


r; 


>t  discuss 
^it  going, 
before  on 
lie.  Tli(> 
(led;  and 
extension 

erhid(i  in 
How  was 
h  friends 
e  finally 
s  present 
required 
to  verify 
he  could 

ixcursion 
e  regions 
y  to  his 
less  the 
of    the 

e,  when, 
appened 
of  what 
ugh  the 
cquaint- 
inember. 
id  there 
original 
liousand 
to  some 


Then,  after  six  months,  he  had  withdrawn  from  the 
iioard,  nn.ler  apprehensions  that  had  been  gradually 
realised  witii  alarming  accura.^y.  Things,  indeed,  had 
been  going  very  wrong  indeed ;  there  were  a  number 
ol  small  investors ;  and  the  annual  meeting  of  the 
company,  to  bo  held  now  in  some  ton  days,  promised 
a  .storm.  \\  barton  discovered,  partly  to  his  own 
amazement,  for  he  was  a  man  who  quickly  forgot,  that 
auring  his  directorate  he  had  devised  or  sanctioned 
matters  that  were  not  at  all  likely  to  commend  them- 

ve  IT'  VT  tr^^^^'^'^''  ^m^o^-^ns  the  past  were 
eally  sifted  The  Ul-luck  of  it  was  truly  stupendous; 
for  on  the  whole  he  had  kept  himself  financially  very 
clean  since  he  had  become  a  member;  having  ail 
through  a  jealous  eye  to  his  political  success. 

As  to  the  political  situation,  nothing  could  be  at 
once  more  promising  or  more  anxious  ' 

An  important  meeting  of  the  whole  Labour  group 
had  b^en  fixed  for  August  10,  by  which  time  it  wi  ex- 
pected tha   a  great  measure  concerning  Labour  would 
be  returned  from  the  House  of  Lords  with  highly  dis- 
putable  amendments.     The   last   six   weeks   of    the 
session  would  _  be   in   many  ways   more   critical   for 
Labour  than   its   earlier  months  had  been ;    and   it 
would  be  proposed  by  Bennett,  at  the  meeting  on  the 
0th,  to  appoint  a  general  chairman  of  the  party,  in 
ew  of  a  campaign  whic     would  fill  the  remainder 
of  the  session  and  strenuously  occupy  the  recess. 

That  Bennett  would  propose  the  name  of  the  mem- 
^v  for  West  Brookshire  was  perfectly  well  know"  to 
U  harton  and  his  friends.     That  the  nomination  would 


Pt 


ll    .: 


!1 

if 

hi 

f 

';'!.'! 

Alii 


I^^^Bitfl 

H|: 

^■11 

IhII 

|[:^ 

H^hI'^  'H 

804 


MAltCELLA. 


iiioet  witli  the  warinost  hostility  from  Wilkins  and  a 
small  group  of  followers  was  also  awuirately  forooast. 

To  this  day,  tluMi,  Wharton  looked  forward  as  to 
the  crisis  of  his  parliam<>ntary  fortunes.  All  his 
chances,  financual  or  social,  must  now  be  calculated 
with  reference  to  it.  Every  power,  whether  of  com- 
bat or  finesse,  that  he  commanded  nuist  be  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  issue. 

What  was,  however,  most  remarkable  in  the  man 
and  the  situation  at  the  moment  was  that,  through  all 
these  gathering  necessities,  he  was  by  no  means  con- 
tinuously anxious  or  troubled  in  his  mind.  Durimr 
these  days  of  July  he  gave  himself,  indeed,  whenev(u-  ho 
could,  to  a  fatalist  oblivion  of  the  annoyances  of  life, 
coupled  with  a  passiomite  pursuit  of  all  those  interests 
where  his  chances  were  still  good  and  the  omens  still 
with  him. 

Especially -during  the  intervals  of  ambition,  in- 
trigue, journalism,  and  unsuccessful  attemi)ts  to  raise 
money  — had  he  meditated  the  beauty  of  Marcella 
Boyce  and  the  chances  and  difficulties  of  his  relation 
to  her.  As  he  saw  her  less,  he  thouglit  of  her  more, 
instinctively  looking  to  lier  for  the  pleasure  and  dis- 
traction that  life  was  temporarily  denying  him  else- 
where. 

^  At  the  same  time,  curiously  enough,  the  strps«  of  his 
financial  position  was  reflected  even  in  what,  to  himself, 
at  any  rate,  he  was  boldly  beginning  to  call  his 
"  passion  "  for  her.  It  had  come  to  his  knowledge 
that  Mr.  Boyce  had  during  the  past  year  succeeded 
beyond  all  expectation  in  cleaiing  the  Mellor  estate. 
He  had  made  skilful  use  of  a  railway  lately  opened 


MAlWELh. 


805 


on  thn  edffo  of  his  property  ;  h;ul  sold  bnihlin.   lu- 
ti.e  n<M,d.l.ourhoo,l  of  a  small  country  town  on  the  i  a. 
w.  h,nac-onv..Miont  distance  of  London;  had  consoli- 
;=^^"'l  '^^"'l  nnproved  several  of   his  farms  and  relet 
lu.n   at    iugher    rents;    was,    iu   fact,   according   to 

■aron^s    o.U„.f<n•nu^nt,i^afairw^^^^ 
1.    ,  .i   he  lived,  quite  as  ],rosp>.rous   as    his    grand- 
ather,  ,n  spite  of  old  scandals  an.l  invalidism.    Whar- 
ton knew  or  thought  he  kn.w,  that  he  would  not  live 
an.l  that  Mareella  would  be  his  heiress.     The  prosp    ^ 
was  not  perhaps  brilliant,  but  it  was  somethii^ 
altocted  the.  outlook.  '" 

Altl.ougl^  iHnv.ver,  this  conai.leration  counted,  it 
.u  to  .0  h„u  juHt.,,.,  Marcdla,  the  creature  hers  -If 
that  he  de.,,re.l.  IJut  for  her  ,,reseneo  iu  his  life  ho 
w«u  d  ,,robably  have  goue  heiress-huutiug  with  the 
least  possible  doh.y.  As  it  was,  his  grow.^g  deter  „t 
nat,ou  to  wau  her,  together  with  his  advocacy  of  he 
Damesley  workers -uu.ply  sufhced,  duriug  the  days 
that  lollowed  h.s  eveniug  talk  wit],  Lady  Selina  to 
".a.ntalu  his  owu  illusions  about  hiu.,elf'and  "  to 
kee|,  up  tlie  zest  of  life. 

Yes  !_to  luasterand  breathe  passion  into  Mareella 
Boyee,  unght  safely  be  reckoned  on,  he  thought  to 
urry  a  man's  blood.     And  after  it  had  gone  to  f 
between  them  _  after  he  had  satisfied  himself  that  her 
fancy  her  temper,  her  heart,  were  all  more  or  lei 
occupied  with  hi,„-was  he  to  see  her  tameh  re 

d:::  n '  -T'^  '""''""'  ~  ^^  '"">  -"  «^-- 

iriff'  I""' '•;""=»'•"■/  l»>*ition  was  now  adding 
fiesh  offence  to  the  old  grievance  and  dislike  ?  Ko - 
not  without  a  .lusli  —  a  throw  for  it : 

VOL.  II.-  .20 


I 


■       1 


i 


p-t  f 


r. 


P' 


:100 


MAIUJKLLA. 


For  !i  while,  after  Ij.adv  Selina's  confid 


oneos,  jeal- 


ous aniioy.'iiKU',  tc.^'etlier  with  a  certain  reeklass  stal 
of  nerves,  turned  him  almost  into  the  pinim,'  lover. 
For  he  coidd  not  see  Marcella.  She  camc^  no  more  to 
Mrs.  Lane;  and  the  house  in  James  Street  was  not 
open  to  him.  He  j)erfeetly  inuierstood  that  the 
Winterbournes  did  not  want  to  know  him. 


At  last  Mrs.  I  jane,  a,  si 


ire\vd  little  woman  witl 


1  a 


now 


half  eontemptuons  liking'  for  Wharton,  let  him  V 
—  on  the  strent,'th  of  a  (druKMf  meeting  with  Lady  Fr- 
nnntrudo  — that  the  Winterbournes  would  beat  the 
Masterton  party  on  the  L'dth.  They  had  persuaded 
Miss  Hoyce  to  stay  for  it,  and  she  would  go  back  to 
her  work  the  Monday  after.  Wharton  carelessly 
replied  that  he  did  not  know  whether  he  would  be  able 
to  put  in  an  ap])earance  at  the  Mastertons'.    He  mifht 


he  goinj 


)f 


town 
Mrs.  Lane  looked 
with  a  little  laugh. 


at  him  and  said,  "Oh,  really 


Lady  Masterton  was  the  wife  of  the  Colonial 
Secretary,  and  her  grand  mansion  in  Grosvenor  Square 
was  the  principal  rival  to  Alresford  Jlouse  in  the 
hosjiitalities  of  the  party.  Her  reception  on  duly  LM 
was  to  be  the  last  considerable  event  of  a  protracted 
but  noAv  dying  season.  Marcella,  detained  in  danu^s 
Street  day  after  day  against  hei-  will  by  the  weak- 
ness of  the  injured  arm  and  the  counsels  of  hoi' 
doctor,  had  at  last  extracted  ]ierraission  to  go  back  to 
work  on  the  27th;  and  to  jilease  Betty  jNIacdonald 
she  had  ].romised  to  go  Avith  the  Winterbournes  to  the 
Masterton  party  on  the  Saturday.     Detty's  dovotioii, 


MAHVELLA. 


807 


shyly  us  sh.,  had  op..n«.l  her  immd  iHsirt  to  it,  had 
Ix'^'un  ...  ,n..im  ;i  ^.o(,d  .loal  to  her.  Thoro  was  balm  in 
M  lor  many  a  Nvouiided  fooling;  and,  h.-sich-s,  them 
was  the  cmstant,  half  naK^r,  half  painliii  intcr.-st  of 
n-atc-huiK'  Hetty's  free  and  .diildish  ways  with  Aldous 
Kiicb.irn,  and  of  si.eculating  upon  what  would  iilti- 
inately  (ionu*  out  of  them. 

So,  wImm.  IJetty  first  .[.■mandcd  to  know  wliat  she  was 
K'oing  to  wear,  and  then  pouted  over  the  dress  shown 
her,  Mareella  sul)niitted  hunddy  to  hein-  "freshened 
up"  at  the  hands  of  Lady  Erniyntrude's  maid 
i'ought  what  Betty  told  her,  and  stoo.l  still  whil. 
IJetty,  who  had  a  ,ir..nius  for  such  things,  chattered, 
and  draped,  and  suggested. 

"  I  wouldn't  make  you  fashionable  for  the  world  '  " 
cried  Betty,  with  a  mouthful  of  )»ins,  laying  down 
masterly  folds  of  lac<.  and  chiffon  the  while  over  the 
white  satin  witii  which  .Mareella  had  provided  her 
'•\\ hat  was  it  Worth  .said  to  me  the  oth.n-  day  " — 
'Ce  qu'on  porte,  .Mademoiselle  ?     0  pas  grand'chose  ' 

—  presque  pas  de  corsage,  et  pas  du  tout  de  man.dies  " 

—  No,  that  kind  of  thing  \vouldn"t  suit  vou  But 
^Ihtinguishea  you  shall  he,  if  I  sit  up  alf  night  to 
think  it  out!"  o       ^^ 

In  the  en,[  Betty  was  satisfied,  and  could  hardly  be 
l-revented  from  inigging  Mareella  there  and  then.^out 
ot  sheer  delight  in  her  own  handiwork,  wiien  at  last 
the  party  mierged  from  the  cloak-room  into  the  3Ias- 
tertons'  crowded  hall.  Mareella  too  felt  pleasure  in 
the  reflections  of  herself  as  they  passed  up  the  lay- 
ishly  bemirrored  staircase.  The  chatter  about  dress 
u<   which   she   had   been   living   for  some  days  had 


if' '  lill> 


M 


m.z. 


Ill 


308 


MARCELLA. 


amused  and   distracted  her;    for  there   were   great 
feminine  potentialities  in  her;  though  for  eighteen 
months   she   had    scarcely   given   what    she    wore   a 
tliought,  and  in  her  pre-nursing  days  had  been  wont  to 
waver  between  a  kind  of  proud  neglect,  which  implied 
the  secret  consciousness  of  beauty,  and  an  occasional 
passionate  desire  to  look  well.     So  that  she  played 
her  part  to-night  very  fairly ;  pinched  Betty's  arm  to 
silence  the  elf's  tongue ;  and  held  herself  up  as  she 
was  told,  that  Betty's  handiwork  might  look  its  best. 
But  inwardly  the  girl's  mood  was  very  tired  and  flat." 
She  was  pining  for  her  work;  pining  even  for  Minta 
Kurd's  peevish  look,  and  the  children  to  whom  she 
was  so  easily  an  earthly  providence. 

In  spite  of  the  gradual  emptying  of  London,  Lady 
Masterton's   rooms   were  very  fall.     Marcella   found 
acquaintances.     Many   of  the  people  whom  she  had 
met  at  Mrs.  Lane's,  the  two  Cabinet  Ministers  of  the 
House  of  Commons   dinner,  Mr.  Lane  himself— all 
were  glad  or  eager  to  recall  themselves  to  her  as  she 
stood  by  Lady  Winterbourne,  or  made  her  way  half 
absently  through  the  press.     She  talked,  without  shy- 
ness-she  had    never   been   shy,  and   was    perhaps 
nearer  now  to  knowing  what  it  might  mean  than  she 
had   been  as  a  schoolgirl  —  bnt  without   heart;  her 
black  eye  wandering  meanwhile,  as  though  in  qu(>st. 
There  was  a  gay  sprinkling  of  uniforms  in  the  crowd, 
for  the  Speaker  was  holding  a  levee,  and  as  it  grew 
late  his  guests  began  to  set  towards  Lady  Masterton. 
Betty,  who  had  been  turning  up  her  nose\it  the  men 
she  had  so  far  smiled  upon,  all  of  wliom  she  declared 
were  either  bald  or  seventy,  was  a  little  propitiated 


MARCELLA. 


309 


by  the  uniforms;  otherwise,  she  pronounced  the  party 
very  dull.  ^      ^ 

"  Well,  upon  my  word !  "  she  cried  suddenly,  in  a 
tone  that  made  .Ararcella  turn  upon  her.  The  child 
was  looking  very  red  and  very  upright -was  using 
her  an  with  great  vehemence,  and  Frank  Leven  was 
humbly  holding  out  his  hand  to  l.or. 

';l  don't  like  being  startled,"  said  Betty,  pettishlv. 
les,  you  did  startle  me -you  did -you  did  !  And 
then  you  begin  to  contradict  before  I've  said  a  word ' 
I  m  sure  you've  been  contradicting  all  the  way  upstairs 
-and  why  don't  you  say  '  How  do  you  do  ? '  to  Miss 
ijoyce  ' 

Frank,  looking  very  happy,  but  very  nervous,  paid 
his  respects  rather  bashfully  to  xMarcella  -  she 
laughed  to  see  how  Betty's  presence  subdued  him- 
and  then  gave  himself  up  wholly  to  Betty's  tender 
mercies.  "^ 

Marcella  observed  them  with  an  eager  interest  she 
cou  d  not  wholly  explain  to  herself.    It  was  clear  that 
all  thought  of  anything  or  anybody  else  had  vanished 
tor  trank  Leven  at  the  sight  of  Betty.      Marcella 
guessed,  indeed  knew,  that  they  had  not  met  for  some 
ittle  time;  and  she  was  touched  by  the  agitation  and 
liappmess  on  the  boy's  handsome  face.     But  Bettv  ^ 
what  was  the  secret  of  her  kittenish,  teasing  ways  _ 
or  wa^  there  any  secret  ?     She  held  her  httle  head 
very  high  and  chattered  very  fast -but  it  was  not 
the  same  ehatter  that  she  gave  to  Marcella,  nor,  so  far 
as  Marcella  could  judge,  to  Aldous  Eaeburn.     ^ew 
elements  of  character  came  out  in  it.      Tt  w-  .Q^f 
e^onfident,  wilful,  imperious.    Frank  was  never  allowed 


iiii 


310 


MARCELLA, 


I 


to  have  an  opinion;  was  laughed  at  before  his  words 
were  out  of  liis  mouth;  was  generally  heckled,  played 
with,  and  shaken  in  a  way  which  seemed  alternately 
to  enrage  and  enchant  him.  In  the  case  of  most  girls 
such  a  manner  would  have  meant  encouragonient  • 
but,  as  It  was  Betty,  no  one  could  be  sure.  Tlie  littl,' 
thing  was  a  great  puzzle  to  Marcella,  who  had  foun.l 
unexpected  reserves  in  her.  She  might  talk  of  liev 
love  affairs  to  Aldous  Eaeburn;  she  had  done  iiothin- 
of  tlu^  sort  with  her  new  friend.  And  in  such  matters 
lUarcella  herself  was  far  more  reserved  than  most 
modern  women. 

"Betty!"  cried  Lady  Winterbourne,  "1  am  goin- 
on  into  the  next  room."  " 

Then  in.  a  lower  tone  she  said  helplessly  to  Mjir- 
cella : 

"  Do  make  her  come  on  !  " 

Marcella  perceived  that  her  old  friend  was  in  a 
fidget.    Stooping  her  tall  head,  she  said  with  a  smile : 

"  15ut  look  how  she  is  amusing  herself ! " 

"  iMy  dear !  —  that's  just  it !  If  you  only  knew  how 
her  mother  — tiresome  woman  —  has  talked  to  me' 
And  the  young  man  has  behaved  so  beautifully  till 
now  — has  given  neither  Ermyntrade  nor  me  anv 
trouble." 

Was  that  why  Betty  was  leading  him  such  a  life  ? 
^farcella  wondered,  —  then  suddenly  —  was  seized 
with  a  sick  distaste  for  the  whole  scene  —  for  Betty's 
love  affairs  — for  her  own  interest  in  them— for  her 
own  self  and  personality  above  all.  Her  great  black 
eyes  gazed  straight  before  them,  unseeing,  over  the 
crowd,  the   diamonds,  the   lights;    her   whole   being 


MAliCELLA. 


311 


his  words 
led,  played 
ilteriuitely 
most  girls, 
rai^-omoiit ; 

The  litth" 
had  found 
ilk  of  her 
le  iiothiuL^ 
di  matters 
:han  most 

am  going 

f  to  Mar- 


was  111  a 
I  a  smile: 

:new  how 

I  to  m(> ! 

ifully  till 

me   any 

h  a  life  ? 
s  seized 
r  Betty's 
-for  hi'r 
3at  1)1  aek 
3ver  thi' 


ie 


uellii 


gave  itself  to  a  quick,  blind  wrestle  with  some  vague 
overmastering  pain,  some  despair  of  life  and  joy  to 
which  she  could  give  no  name. 

She  was  roused  by  ]3etty's  voice : 

"  Mr.  Kaeburn  !  will  yon  tell  me  who  people  are  ? 
Mr.  Leven's  no  more  use  than  my  fan.  Just  imagine 
—  I  asked  him  who  that  lady  in  the  tiara  is  — amf  he 
vows  ho  doesn't  know !  Why,  it  just  seems  that  when 
you  go  to  Oxford,  you  leave  the  wits  you  had  before, 
behind!  And  then  — of  course "  — P.etty  affected  a 
delicate  hesitation —  ''there's  the  difliculty  of  being 
quite  sure  that  you'll  ever  get  any  new  ones  !  —  But 
there  — look!— I'm  in  despair !  — she's  vanished — 
and  I  shall  never  know  !  " 

''One  moment!"  said  Eaeburn,  smiling,  "and  I  will 
take  you  in  ])ursuit.  She  has  only  gone  into  the  tea- 
room." 

His  hand  touched  .Marcella's. 

'Must  a  little  better,"  he  said,  with  a  sudden  change 
of  bok,  in  answer  to  Lady  Winterbourne's  question. 
"The  account  to-night  is  certainly  lirighter.  Thev 
begged  me  not  to  come,  or  1  should  have  been  oft- 
some  days  ago.  And  next  week,  I  am  thankful  to 
say,  they  will  be  home."' 

Why  should  she  be  standing  there,  so  inhumiLuly 
still  and  silent  ?  —  ]\rarcella  asked  herself.  AVhy  n Jt 
take  courage  again— join  in  —  talk  — show  sympathy '/ 
But  the  words  died  on  her  lips.  After  to-niglit  — 
thank  heaven  !  —  she  need  hardly  see  him  again." 

He  asked  after  lierself  as  usual.  Theiu'just  as  he 
was  turning  away  with  Betty,  he  came  back  to  her, 
unexpectedly. 


^j  : 


\  ■ 


812 


UlAliCELLA. 


J^S,.     .   ? 


gently  "His  sister  writes  to  me  that  she  is  luippior 
about  lin„  an,l  tliai  she  hopes  to  be  able  to  keep  him 
away  another  fortnight.     Tliey  are  at  Keswick  " 

l^or  an  instant  there  was  pleasure  in  the  implication 
of  common  ground,  a  common  interest- here  if  no- 
whore  else.  Then  the  pleasure  was  lost  in  the  smart 
of  her  own  strange  lack  of  self-government  as  she 
made  a  rather  stupid  and  awkward  reply 

Kaeburn's  eyes  rested  on  her  for  a  moment.  There 
was  in  them  a  flash  of  involuntary  expression,  which 
she  did  not  notice  -  for  she  had  turned  away  -  which 
no  one  saw  -  except  Betty.  Then  the  child  followed 
him  to  the  tea-room,  a  little  pale  and  pensive. 
Marcella  looked  after  them. 

J^'v^V"''^"^  ""^  *^''  "^^'■^''^^'  ^^°^*  ^''-'^  the  babel  of 
talk  hghtmg  against  the  Hungarian  band,  which  was 
playing  its  wildest  and  loudest  in  the  tea-room,  she 
was  overcome  by  a  sudden  rush  of  memory.  Her 
eyes  were  tracing  the  passage  of  those  two  figures 
through  the  crowd;  the  man  in  his  black  court  suit, 
stooping  his  rehned  and  grizzled  head  to  the  girl  be- 
side him,  or  turning  every  now  and  then  to  g!-eet  an 
acquaintance  with  the  manner  -  cordial  and  pleasant, 

MnVppr'r;  1  ^"'  '"'"  ^^'^^^  ^^^  smiled-that  she 
Maicella  had  begun  to  notice  of  late  as  a  new  thing 
the  girl  htting  her  small  face  to  him,  the  gold  of 
her  hair  showing  against  his  velvet  sleeve.  But  the 
mward  sense  was  busy  with  a  number  of  other  impres- 
sions, past,  and,  as  it  now  seemed,  incredible. 

Ihe  little  scene  when  Aldous  had  given  her  the 
pearls,  returned  so  long  ago- why  !  she  could  see  the 


MARC  ELLA.  gjg 

fire  blazing  in  the  Stone  Parlour,  feel  his  arm  about 

her!_the  drive  home  after  the  Gairsley  meeting- 

ha   poignant  moment  in  his  sitting-roofn  the  n.^ht 

on  that  terrible  evening  when  she  pleaded  with  him 
and  his  grandfather  in  vai.n-hadLse  things  ineT 
<  en  s  rei  tions,  been  ever  a  real  part  of  the"  li W,  1 
void?  Impossible!  Why,  there  he  was  -  not  ten 
yards  from  her -and  yet  more  irrevoeubly  s  ,'iate 
from  her  than  if  the  Sahara  stretched  between  Xm 
The  no  e  of  cold  distance  in  his  courteous  manner  p^ 
her  further   rom  him  than  the  merest  stranger       ' 

Ma  ce  la  felt  a  sudden  terror  rush  tlirough  her  as 
he  b  indly  followed  Lady  Winterbourne ;  her  1  id! 
trembled  under  her;  she  took  advantage  of  a  co ii  e 
ation  between  her  companion  and  the  master  ot: 
K^se  to  sink  down  for  a  moment  on  a  sett    ,  wh 
she  felt  out  of  sigjit  and  notice. 

What  was  this  intolerable  sense  of  loss  and  folly 

..smarting  emptiness,  this  rage  with  herself    nU,' 

life  ?    Slie  only  knew  that  whereas  tlie  touch  tlie  eve 

r      ToL  rs'r  ''^  ""''''''■  ^°'"'>^"«'  "-  «''^"  ^ 

- !»       h.t   ,   7  T'^^'f  ^'^  ''''"'"  ''«^'*  ^"d  life 
'"""-that  she  had  no  riglit  to  eitlier  look  or  caress- 

and  was  already  perhaps  making  up  that  loval  n,„ 
-nous  mind  of  his  to  ask  from\an  th  r  woma„  tl 

appiness   she   had  denied  him;    now,  wlienTt  wa 
absurdly  too  late,  she  could-  "en  it  « as 

Could  what  ?     Passionate,  wilful  creature  *>.»t  -',e 
wa. !  -  with  that  breath  of  something-^rild  and  incl 


•I     I    I 
I 


i   ■ 


It 


I  f.l 


814 


MAliCELLA. 


eulable  surging  thr„u-li  the  inmost  places  of  the  soul 
•she  went  through  u  moment  of  sutiVring  as  she  sat 
pale  and  erect  in  her  corner- brushed  against  by 
silks  and  satins,  chattered  across  by  this  person  and 
that  — such  as  seemed  to  bruise  all  the  remaining  iov 
and  ease  out  of  life. 

But  only  a  moment!  Flesh  and  blood  rebelled 
bhe  sprang  up  from  her  seat;  told  herself  that  she 
was  mad  or  ill ;  caught  sight  of  Mr.  Lane  comin.^ 
towards  them,  and  did  her  best  by  smile  and  greeting. 
to  attract  him  to  her. 

"You  look  very  white,  my  dear  Miss  Boyce,"  said 
that  cheerful  and  fatherly  person.  -Is  it  that  tire- 
some arm  still  ?  Xo^v,  Jon't  please  go  and  be  a 
neroine  any  more !" 


of  the  soul, 

us  she  sat 

against  by 

person  uiul 

uaiiiing  joy 

hI  rebelled. 
If  that  she 
me  coniing 
ul  greeting 

oyce,"  said 

;  tliat  tire- 

and   be  a 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

iVl7-:A.vwiriiM.:,  in  the  tea-room,  Betty  was  daintily 
sipping  her  claret-cup,  while  Aldous  stood  by  her. 

":N-o,"  said  Betty,  calmly,  looking  straight  at  the 
lady  in  the  tiara  who  was  standing  Ijy  the  buffV^t, 
"she's  not  beautiful,  and  I've  torn  my  dress  running 
after  her.  There's  only  one  beautiful  person  here 
to-night ! " 

Aldous  found  her  a  seat,  and  took  one  himself  be- 
side her,  in  a  corner  out  of  the  press.  But  he  did  not 
answer  her  remark. 

"  Don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Aldous  ? "  said  Betty, 
persisting,  but  with  a  little  flutter  of  the  pulse. 

"You  mean  Miss  Boyce?"  he  said  quietly,  as  he- 
turned  to  her. 

"Of  course!"  cried  Betty,  with  a  sparkle  in  her 
charming  eyes ;  "  what  is  it  in  her  face  ?  It  excites 
me  to  be  near  her.  One  feels  that  she  will  just  have 
lived  twice  as  much  as  the  rest  of  us  by  the  time  she 
comes  to  the  end.  You  don't  mind  niv  talking  of  her 
Mr.  Aldous?" 

There  was  an  instant's  silence  on  his  part.  Then 
he  said  in  a  constrained  voice,  looking  away  from  his 
companion,  "  I  don't  inind  it,  but  I  am  not  going  to 
pretend  to  you  that  I  lind  it  easy  to  talk  of  her."  " 

"  It  would  be  a  shame  of  you  to  pretend  anvthinff." 
said  Betty,  fervently,  '*  after  all  I've  told  you  :'    1  eon- 

316 


4 


r 


1 


p. 


816 


MAR  CELL  A. 


if    ' 


VUl 


f  J'  ? 


Wi 


fessed  all  my  scrapes  to  you,  turnod  out  all  my  rub- 
>i«li  bag  of  a  heart-well,  nearly  M,ll"-she  e' "eked 
horse  t  with  a  sv  Ideu  «usli-uAud  you've  boeu  as 
kuul  o  me  as  any  big  brother  eould  be.  ]Jut  yon'r,. 
clreadiu  ly  lofty,  Mr.  Aldous !  You  keep  yourself  to 
yourself.  T  don't  think  it's  fair!" 
Aldous  laughed. 

''My  dear  Miss  Betty,  haven't  you  found  out  by 
noNV  that  I  am  a  good  listener  and  a  bad  talker'^  I 
do.rt  talk  of  myself  or  "-he  hesitated--  the  tl/in^s 
that  have  mattered  most  to  me -because,  in  the  first 
plaee,  it  doesn't  come  easy  to  me -and,  in  the  next' 
'•an  t,  you  see,  discuss  my  own  concerns  without  dis- 
cussing otlier  peoide's." 

''Oh,  good  gracious!"  said  Betty,  -what  you  must 

have  been  thmkino-  about  me  !     I  declare  I'll  never 

eh  you  anything  again !"- and,   beating   her  tinv 

lo.  c  upon  the  ground,  she  sat,  scarlet,  looking  down 

lit  it. 

Aldous  made  all  the  smiling  excuses  he  could  mus- 

Ucl.ing  httle  companion,  both  at  the   Court  in  the 
Easter  recess,  and  during  the  Italian  iourney.     Her 

Ota  lack  of  reserve,  or  what  app;ared  ^o,  had 
heen  hrst  an  amazement  to  him,  and  then  a  positive 
pleasure  and  entertainment.  To  make  a  friend  of 
him -difficult  and  scrupulous  as  he  was,  and  now 
more  than  ever -a  woman  must  be  at  the  cost  of 
mo  t  of  the  advances.  But,  after  the  first  evenin-^ 
with  hini,  Betty  bad  made  them  in  profusion,  without 

he  sma  lest  demur,  though  perfectly  well  aware  of 
her  mother's  ambitions.     There  was  a  tie  of  cousiii- 


MAIWELLA. 


.^J17 


ship  Lntween  them,  an.l  ;i  considnruhlo  dilfcronr.o  of 
age.  Betty  had  decided  at  c.ee  that  a  mother  was  a 
dear  ohl  -;oose,  and  that  -reat  friends  she  and  M.lous 
Kaeh  rn  shouhl  be-and,  in  a  sens.,  great  friends 
tliey  were. 

Ahlous  was  still  propitiating  her.  when  Lady  Win- 
terbonrne  earne  into  the  teu-rooni,  followed  by  Mar- 
cella.  The  elder  lady  threw  a  hurried  and  not  very 
happy  glance  at  the  pair  in  the  corner.  Ma.cella 
appeared  to  be  in  aniniaterl  talk  with  a  voting  journal- 
ist whom  Kaeburn  knew,  and  <lid  not  h.ok  tlu'-ir  way 

'SJust  one  thing!"  said  JJetty,  bending forNvard  arid 
speaking  eagerly  in  Aldous's  ear.  -It  was  all  a  mis- 
take-wasn't  it?      Xow  r  know  her  I   feel   sure  it 

was      \ou  don't-you  don't- really  think  badly  of 
iier  i 

Aldous  heard  her  unwillingly.  He  was  lookiim- 
away  from  her  to^v-ards  the  buffet,  wlien  she  saw  a 
••hange  in  the  eyes -a  tightening  of  the  lip -a  some- 
thing keen  and  hostile  in  the  whole  faee 

'•Perhaps  Miss  I^oyee  will  be  less  of  a  ridcUe  to  all 
of  us  before  long!"  he  said  hastily,  as  though  the 
words  escaped  him.  -  Shall  we  get  out  of  this  yery 
uncomfortable  corner  ?  " 

Betty  looked  w},ere  he  had  looked,  and  saw  a  youn- 
man  greeting  lAFarcella  with  a  manner  so  emphatic 
and  intimate,  that  the  journalist  had  instantly  moved 
out  of  his  way.  The  young  man  had  a  noticeable  pile 
ot  fair  curls  above  a  very  white  and  rounded  forehead 
"Who  IS  that  talking  to  Miss  Bovce  ?"  she  asked 
ot  Aldous;  "I  have  seen  him.  but  I  can't  remember 
tiie  name." 


I     '■ 


m 


I  iTi 


M     I 


318 


yrAIiCELLA. 


•;'i;i'"<  "s  .Mr.  WlurtoM,  t|„.  ...nMhor  lo,- ,„,..  of  ,„„■ 
<livisi..ns.-'s;,i.i  AI.I<M,s.  ;,,sIm.  n,s..  rr,Mn  his  rlnir 

H^'tty  Kav.  a  l.tlh.  slart.  nn.l  Iht  !„■...■  |m,H«.,v,1 
inoalrowM.     As  sh.  loo  ros.,  sh.  said  n.s,...truily  tu 

"  Well,  you  havo  snubbed  hm-  !  " 

As  usual,  lu.  <.ouI,l  ,„>t  fin.l  t,|.o  HCrtivr  or  .irvrr 
tliinjuf  to  say. 

"I.li.lnot,iL-anto."l.e  ropli,.,!  simpiv:  b.ih  Hottv 
N'lancin-  at  bini,  sau'  sonu>tIm,n'  in  his  I;,,-.,  whidi 
gnppedhor  heart.     A  lump  rose  iu  lier  throat 

•vDo  let's  go  and  tind  JOruiyntni.le  !  "  she  said. 

Hnt  Whartou  had  bandy  begun  his  talk  with  Mar- 
''«^lln  wh.u  a  gentleman,  on  his  way  to  the  buffet  with 
a  cup  to  set  down,  touHied  him  on  the  arm.     VVliartcm 
turned  lu  some  astonishnu-nt  and  annoyance.     He  saw 
a  youngish,  good-looking  man.  well  known  h,  hin,  ,s 
already  one  of  the  most  important  soli.-itors  in  Lo'n'- 
don,  largely  trusted  by  uiany  rieli  or  eminent  persons 
"iVtay  I  have  a  word  with  you  presently""  said 
Mr.  Pearson,  iu  a  pleasant  undertone.     >■  I  Juive  son.e- 
t  ::ng  of  interest  to  say  to  you,  and  it  occurred  t(.  me 
that  I  might  nuH^t  you  to-night.      Excuse  my  intei- 
niptmg  you."  '' 

He  glanced  with  admiration  at  iMarcella,  who  had 
turned  away. 

Wharton  had  a  n.omentary  quabn.     Then  it  struck 
him  that  :Mr.  Pearson's  maimer  was  decidedly  friendlv 
J' In  a  moment,"  he  said.     ''  We  might  find  a  cohkm.' 
1  think,  in  that  further  room." 

H"  made  a  motion  of   the   hea.l   towards  a  littl. 
bouiiuir  which  lay  beyond  the  tea-room. 


MAItnELLA, 


319 


(»r  cK'vcr 


Mr.  Pffusoii  iioffdcfl  and  p?is.sf;d  on. 

Wharf...  .Hi.nM.i  to  .M.,,..,]la,  whr,  \,,\  f.H,,  ^,^,k 
on  frank  J  .v-.n.  At  th.  approud.  of  th.  n..n.f,er  for 
VVoHt  .rookslnr.,  I.uly  Wint.rbourr..  anri  h.r  M.u.'h- 
ter  uu  n,ov.-,|  s,.v.,oly  au-ay  to  tho  further  ..n.fof 
the  biifff^t. 

"A    tirfso'  «.    .uaj.    wants    me    on   business    for   a 

n-ment/'iu.said;thenhedropMhisvou..alitti.^ 
•  but  I  have  been  looking,  foruard  to  thi.  .venin,.  this 

;;;;--^forUays-shalinin.yo.b...a,^ 

Mareella,  uIk.  had  flushed  bric^htly.  said  that  uo.iid 
;h-peMd   on    the    time   and   Lady    Winterbourn.-      ff. 
mrned  away  with  a  little  gesture  of  desi>air.      Frank 
followed  hini  with  a  sarea.tie  eye. 

"Any  on.  would  think  he'  was  prin..  minister 
already.  I  never  met  him  yet  anywhere  that  he 
hadn  t  some  business  on  hand.  Whv  does  hp  b*^have 
as  though  he  had  the  world  on  his  .Shoulder.  -  Your 
real  swells  always  seem  to  have  nothing  to  do  - 

"Do  you  know  so  many  busy  peopl.  •/  -    31arcella 
asked  him  sweetly. 

"Oh,  you  slum-t  put  me  down.  Miss  Bovee ' "  said 
the  boy,  sulkily  thrusting  his  han-ls  into  his  por-kKs 
••I  am  going  to  work  like  blazes  this  winter,  it'onlv 
my  dons  will  let  a  fellow  alone.     I  sav,  isn't  .she  rir. 
/>«»r/ to-night  — Betty?"'  ^ 

And,  pulling  his  moustache  in  helpless  jealousv  an.l 
anoyance,  he  stared  at  the  Wint.rl.urne  group  across 
_  :-  room,  which  had  In^en  now  joined  bv  AMou. 
rtaelMirn  ami  Betty,  standing  sid.^  bv  <ide.      " 

'^  ^^'hat  do  you  want  me  to  say  ;'  -  said  Mareelia,  witn 


•  I 


320 


MAliCELLA. 


A' 


I  f^^ 


! 


p.™»ol«-v.     I'lcas,.p„t„,v,„p,|,„,„.;' 

At  tlu,  s,,„„.  ,„„n„.„t  »!„.  .SH».  \VI.„io„  ,.„mini;  bac-k 
to  l„.r_.M,..  |.,,,,,s„„  |„,|,i,„|  1,1,,,^  ^,^^j|  ■ 

'"•"!"«  "■"  « »  <"■  I'is  w.t..|„.lKti„.   'i;i.e  wts 

stnn  ly  struck  b.v  \\h.rt„„'s  1„„U  „f  0K..it«,„e„t,  ,„„l 
by  IH.  ,,,:„,,„.,•  i„  «-hi,.h-with  a  mon„..,t,.rv  Kh„„... 
-.;!.■    at   tho    Winterboun,,,    ,«,,,,_,,„  ,.,;,„';,„,„,; 

"  TluMv  is  »„,.i,  a  ,.|ia,„iiiis  little  room  in  there  "  l,e 
sa„  ,  ,st„o|,i„.  bis  ,.„,.,,  ,„  I,,.,.  ,.,„„,  ^^  ^^^  ^^^ 

neat.      \\  on  t  you  try  it  ?  " 

The  en.rgy  of  his  bright  eye  took  possession  of  her 
He  led  the  way;  she  followed.  Her  dress  aln.ost 
bruslHMl  Al<lous  Raeburn  tus  she  passed 

He  took  her  into  a  tiny  room.  There  wr,s  no  one 
else  tiiere  and  he  found  a  seat  for  her  by  an  open 
window,  where  they  were  ahnost  hidden  from  vie/hv 
a  stand  of  flowers.  " 

As  lie  sat  down  again  by  her,  she  saw  that  a  deci- 
sive moment  had  come,  and  blanched  almost  to  the 
colour  of  lier  dress.  Oh  !  what  to  do !  Her  heart 
cried  out  vaguely  to  some  power  bevond  itself  for 
gmdance,  then  gave  itself  up  again  to  the  wayward 
thirst  for  ha])piuess. 

He  took  her  hand  strongly  in  both  his  own,  and 
bending  towards  her  as  she  sat  bowered  among  the 
scent  and  colours  of  the  flowers,  he  made  her  a  pas- 
sionate declaration.  From  the  first  moment  that  he 
had  seen  her  under  tl.e  Chiltern  beeches,  so  he  vowed, 
he  had  fel  in  her  the  supreme,  incomparable  attraction 
which  binds  a  man  to  one  woman,  and  one  ouh-      His 


VOL 


MAKCKLhA. 


'>0 


^21 


SIX  vvr..k,s  u.„U.r}K.rfutln..-'s  roof  hu.l  produr..!  „.  huu 
fee  ,nKM  u-h,.h  ho  knnu-  to  h-  u-ron-,.  u-ithrM,t  tluMvln- 
hndi.iff  „,  hi,,.,,.],-  any  pow.-r  to  r-lM-.k  rl,.,,,.     Thoy 
f'.'td  bftraynrl   him  info  a  ,nH,l  monu-nt,  whiH.  h.  hail 
njcttna     hiftorly    h.-auso    it    h.-ul    ^iv..,.    h.r    ...in 
(nh,.rNv,s,._his   vole..  d,.o,,,H,.,l   and   shook,  his  h.n.l 
pressed  hers-  '•  I  lived  lor  n.onths  on  the  n.eniorv  ot 
that  one  instant."     H.it  he  had  resp-.-ted  her  sutterin<^ 
her  struggle,  her  nee.l  for  rest  of  n.ind  and  hod  v      fZ 
her  sake  he  had  -one  away  into  sil..noe  ;  h..  had  r,ut  •, 
force  upon   himself  uhi.-h    |,,l  alone  enabled  hin,  to 
get  through  his  parliamentary  work. 

Then,  with  his  first  sight  of  her  in  that  little  homelv 
room  ami  dress  —so  ehanged,  hut  so  lovelv  !-..^v^v 
thlng-admi^ation,  passion  -had  revived  with. h,Ml,h. 
'Strength.      Sinee   that   meeting  he  must    have  often 
puzzled  her,  as  he  had  puzzled  himself.     His  life  harj 
l»'<-n  a. series  of  perple.xities.     H.  was  not  his  own 
master;  he   was  the  servant  of  a  cause,  in  whieh- 
however   foolish       a    moeking  habit  nnght  have  led 
him  at  times  to       little  his  own  enthusiasms  and  hers 
-his  life  an.l   honour  were  engaged;  and  this  eause 
-d  his  part  in  it  had  been  for  long  hamj.ered.  and  all 
li!s  clearness  of  vision  and  judgment  dimmed  bv  the 
pressure  of  a  number  of  difficulties  and  worries  he 
oould  not  have  discussed  with  her- worries  praotical 
ami  hnancial,  connected  with  the    Qanou.  with  the 
experiments  he  had  been  ...rrying  out  <.n  his  estate, 
ami  with  other  troublesome  matters.     He  had  felt  a 
thousand  times  that  his  fortunes,  political  or  private' 
^vere  toodoubtful  an  1  perilous  to  allow  him  to  ask  auv 
u-oman  to  sh.v^  .hem.  -Then,  again,  he  had  seen  her 

VOL.  u.  —  21 


f': 


\.     i; 


ll 


322 


M ARC  ELL  A. 


—  and  his  resolution,  his  scruple,  had  melted  in  his 
breast  I 

Well !  there  were  still  troubles  in  front !  But  he 
was  no  longer  cowed  by  them.  In  spite  of  them,  he 
dared  now  to  throw  himself  at  her  feet,  to  ask  her  to 
come  and  share  a  life  of  combat  and  of  labour,  to  bring 
her  beauty  and  her  mind  to  the  joint  conduct  of  a  great 
enterprise.  To  her  a  man  might  show  his  effort  and 
his  toil,  — from  her  he  might  claim  a  sympathy  it 
would  be  vain  to  ask  of  any  smaller  woman. 

Then  suddenly  he  broke  down.  Speech  seemed  to 
fail  him.  Only  his  eyes  —  more  intense  and  piercin- 
under  their  straight  brows  tlian  she  had  ever  known 
them  —  beseeched  her— his  hand  sought  hers. 

She  meanwhile  sat  in  a  trance  of  agitation,  mistress 
neither  of  reason  nor  of  feeling.  She  felt  his  spell,  as 
she  had  always  done.  The  woman  in  her  thrilled  at 
last  to  the  mere  name  and  neighbourhood  of  love. 
The  heart  in  her  cried  out  that  pain  and  loss  could 
only  be  deadened  so  — the  past  could  only  be  si- 
lenced by  filling  the  present  with  movement  and 
Avarm  life. 

Yet  Avhat  tremors  of  conscience  —  what  radical  dis- 
trust of  herself  and  him .'  And  the  lirst  articulate 
words  she  found  to  say  to  him  were  very  much  what 
she  had  said  to  Aldous  so  long  ago— only  filled  with 
a  bitterer  and  more  realised  content. 

"After  all,  what  do  we  know  of  each  other!  You 
don't  know  me  —  not  as  1  am.     And  I  feel  —  " 

"  Doubts  ?  "  he  said,  smiling.  "  Do  you  imagine  that 
that  seems  anything  but  natural  to  me  ?  /  can  have 
lione;    but  you-    After  all,  we  are  not   quite  bov 


MARC  ELL  A. 


323 


and  girl,  you  ami  f ;  we  have  lived,  both  of  us  !     But 

,.    ,  ^^^^  throuLdiuut,  he    vva-^ 

conscious  ot  the  Uoorway  to  his  i-ightrof  the  L  C 
incessantly  moving  ac-oss  it.    His  own  eloquence  n, 
convmced  and  moved  himself  almndantly,  "  '    e 
saw  he,,  yielding,  he  was  tilled  with  L   strCe  t 

contempt !     If  she  had   turned   from  him  with  the 

!2  oMove      f     '^■■'"^'-'«l  "'0-  "f  the  «6a„rfo„. 
;;«tay  '"™ ''^""'"''  '"^  -"'  """"on  — e 

Still,  the  situation  was  poignant  enough  _i„  „„,• 
sense  complete.     Was  Eaeburn  still  there-i     t 
next  room  ?  "'*^ 

they  sat  in  the  shelter  of  the  flowers.     For  l,^  was 
a  vai-e  of  the  practical  facts-  the  hour,  the  phll 
she  was  not.  piace— it 

She  roused  herself. 

wwV]?"'^C  '^''  '^''^'  ''''''^"^^  ^  movement   to  rise 
vhich  his  strong  grasp,  however,  prevented.     '^  I  Z^t 

much  to  think  over -so  much!     It  mi^rht  all    llT 
quite  different  to  me.     You  must  give  2^  "   ^"' 
"To-morrow?"  he  said  quietly 

baZn" "'  '^'  ?^^  ""Petuously,  ^'  not  to-morrow ;  I  go 
back  to  my  work,  and  1  must  ha--  --J-  ^.  --  •  ? 

afortnight  — not  before.     [ 


have  quiet  and  time.     In 


mi 


iitii' 


i  ; 


will 


write. 


324 


MARCELLA. 


'"Oh,  impossible  \  "   he  said,  with  a  little  frown. 

And  still  holding-  her,  he  drew  her  towards  him. 
His  gaze  ran  over  the  face,  the  warm  whiteness  under 
the  lace  of  the  dress,  the  beautiful  arms.  She  shrank 
from  it  —  feeling  a  sudden  movement  of  dislike  and 
fear;  Imt  before  she  could  disengage  her.self  he  had 
pressed  his  lips  on  the  arm  nearest  to  him. 

''I  gave  you  no  leave  !  "  she  said  passionately,  luider 
her  breath,  as  he  let  her  go. 

He  met  her  flashing  look  with  tender  humbleness. 

"■  Marcella  !  " 

The  word  was  just  breathed  into  the  air.  She 
wavered  —  yet  a  chill  had  passed  over  her.  She  could 
not  recover  the  moment  of  magic. 

"  Not  to-morrow,"  she ,  repeated  steadily,  though 
dreading  lest  she  should  burst  into  tears,  ''and  not 
till  I  see  clearly  —  till  T  can  —  "  She  caught  her  breath. 
"  Now  I  am  going  back  to  Lady  Winterbourne." 


s      A\ 


?^' 


own. 
rds  him. 
iss  under 
e  shrank 
like  and 
■  lie  had 

ly,  under 

leness. 

,ir.     She 
he  could 

thouij^h 
and  not 
r breath. 


CH.''vI»TKl{    XIV. 

For  some  hours  after  he  reached  his  own  room. 
AVharton  sat  in  front  of  his  open  window,  sunk  in  the 
swift  rushing  of  thought,  as  a  bramble'  sways  in  a 
river.  The  July  night  first  paled,  then  fluslled  into 
morning ;  the  sun  rose  above  the  empty  street  and  the 
light  mists  enwrapping  the  great  city,  before  he  threw 
himself  on  his  bed,  exhausted  enough  at  last  to  fall 
into  a  restless  sleep. 

The  speculation  of  tliose  quick-pulsed  hours  was  in 
the  end  about  equally  divided  between  Marcella  and 
the  phrases  and  turns  of  his  interview  with  Mr.  Pear- 
son. It  was  the  sudden  leap  of  troubled  excitement 
stirred  in  him  by  that  interview  —  heightened  by  the 
sight  of  Kaeburn— that  had  driven  him  past  recall 
by  the  most  natural  of  transitions,  into  his  declaration 
to  iMarcella. 

But  he  had  no  sooner  reached  his  room  than,  at  first 
with  iron  will,  he  put  the  thought  of  Marcella.  of  the 
scene  wliich  had  just  passed,  away  from  him.  His 
pulses  were  still  quivering.  No  matter!  It  was  the 
')nun  he  had  need  of.  He  set  it  coolly  and  keenly  to 
work. 

Mr.  Pearson  ?  Well !  —Mr.  Pearson  had  offered  him 
a  bribe;  there  could  be  no  question  as  to  that.  His 
clear  sense  never  blinked  the  matter  for  an  instant. 
Xor  had  he  any  illusions  as  to  his  own  behaviour.    Even 

325 


1  ' 


■i] 


%'' 


s 

■ 

II 

326 


MAIiCELLA. 


\{  I  ' 


now  he  had  no  further  riglit  to  the  sleep  of  the  honest 
man. 

Let  liim  realise,  however,  what  had  happened.  He 
had  gone  to  Lady  ]VIasterton's  party,  in  the  temper 
of  a  man  who  knows  that  ruin  is  upon  him,  and  de- 
termined, like  the  French  criminal,  to  exact  his  cigar 
and  eau  de  vie  before  the  knife  falls.  Xever  had  things 
looked  so  desperate ;  never  had  all  resource  seemed  to 
him  so  completely  exhausted.  J3ankruptcy  must  come 
in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks ;  his  entailed  property 
would  pass  into  the  hands  of  a  receiver ;  and  whatever 
recovery  might  be  ultimately  possible,  by  the  end  of 
August  he  would  be,  for  tiie  moment, '^socially  and 
politically  undone. 

There  could  be  no  question  of  his  proposing  seriously 
to  Marcella  Boyce.    Nevertheless,  he  had  gone  to  Lady 
Masterton's  on  purpose  to  meet  her;  and  his  manner 
on  seeing  her  had  asserted  precisely  the  same  intimate 
claim  ui>on  her,  which,  during  the  past  six  weeks,  had 
alternately  attracted  and  repelled  her. 
Then  Mr.  Pearson  had  interrupted. 
Wharton,  shutting  his  eyes,  could  see  the  great  man 
lean  against  the  window-frame  close  to  the  sjjot  where, 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  .Marcella  had  sat  among  the 
flowfvs  — the  dapper  figure,  the  long,  fair  moustaches, 
the  hand  playing  with  the  eye-glass. 

"I  havebeenasked— er~er— "  What  a  conceited 
manner  the  fellow  had!  — «'to  get  some  conversation 
with  you,  Mr.  Wharton,  on  the  subject  of  the  Damesley 
strike.     You  give  me  leave  ?  " 

Whereupon,  in  less  than  ten  minutes,  the  speaker 
luul  executed  an  important  commission,  and,  in  otferint;' 


MARCELLA. 


327 


Wharton  a,  bribe  ol'  tlie  most  bare-faced  kind,  had  also 
found  time  for  supplying  him  with  a  number  of  the  most 
delicate  and  suiiicient  excuses  for  taking  it. 

The  masters,  in  fact,  sent  an  embassy.  They  fully 
admitted  the  power  of  the  Ctariou  and  its  owner.  No 
doubt,  it  would  not  be  possible  for  the  paper  to  keep  up 
Its  strike  fund  indefinitely  ;  tliei-e  were  perhaps  already 
signs  of  slackening.  HtiU  it  had  been  maintained  for 
a  considerable  time ;  and  so  long  as  it  was  reckoned 
on,  m  spite  of  the  wide-spread  misery  and  suffering 
now  prevailing,  the  men  would  probably  hold  out. 

In  these  circumstances,  the  principal  employers 
concerned  had  thought  it  best  to  approach  so  formid- 
able an  opponent  and  to  put  before  him  information 
which  might  possibly  modify  his  action.  They  had 
authorised  Mr.  Pearson  to  give  him  a  full  account  of 
what  was  proposed  in  the  way  of  re-organisation  of  the 
trade,  including  the  i)robable  advantages  which  the 
work-people  themselves  would  be  likely  to  reap  from 
it  in  the  future. 

Mr.  Pearson  ran  in  a  few  sentences  through  the 
points  of  the  scheme.  Wharton  stood  about  a  yard 
away  from  him,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  a  little  pale 
and  frowning  — looking  intently  at  the  speaker. 

Then  Mr.  Pearson  paused  and  cleared  his  throat. 

Well!  — that  was  the  scheme.  His  principals  be- 
lieved that,  when  both  it  and  the  employers'  determina- 
tion to  transfer  their  business  to  the  Continent  rather 
than  be  beaten  by  the  men  were  made  fully  known  to 
the  owner  of  the  Clarion,  it  must  affect  his  point  of 
view.  Mr.  l^earson  was  empowered  to  give  him  any 
details  he  might  desire.      .Meanwhil..  _  so   contident 


lb    ! 


-If 


,^28 


MAHCKLLA. 


were  they  in  the  reasoiuiblenoss  of  the  ease  that  thev 
even  suggested  that  the  owner  of  the  Clarion  hinisoif 
shouhl  take  part  in  the  new  Syndicate.  On  condition 
of  his  future  co-operation  —  it  being  understood  that 
the  masters  took  tlieir  stand  irrevocably  on  tlie  award 
—  the  men  at  present  responsible  for  the  formation 
of-  the  Syndicate  proposed  to  allot  Mr.  Wharton  tm 
Founder's  Shares  in  the  new  undertaking. 

Wharton,  sitting  alone,  recalling  thes'^e  things,  was 
conscious  again  of  that  start  in  every  limb,  that  sud- 
den rush  of  blood  to  the  face,  as  though  a  lash  had 
struck  him. 

For  in  a  few  seconds  his  mind  took  in  the  situation. 
Only  the  day  before,  a  city  acquaintance  had  said  to 
Inm,  "  If  you  and  your  confounded  paper  were  out  of 
the  way,  and  this  thing  could  be  placed  properly  on 
the -market,  there  would  be  a  boom  in  it  at  once.  [ 
am  told  that  in  twenty-four  hours  the  Founder's 
Shares  would  be  worth  2,000?.  apiece ! " 

There  was  a  pause  of  silence.  Then  Wharton  threw 
a  queer  dark  look  at  the  solicitor,  and  was  conscious 
that  his  pulse  was  thumping, 

"  There  can  be  no  question  1  think,  Mr.  Pearson  — 
between  you  and  me  —as  to  the  nature  of  such  a  ])ro- 
posal  as  that ! " 

"My  dear  sir,"  Mr.  Pearson  had  interrupted  hastily 
-let  me,  above  all,  ask  you  to  take  /me  — time 
enough,  at  any  rate,  to  turn  the  matter  well  over  in 
your  mind.  The  interests  of  a  great  many  people, 
besides  yourself,  are  concerned.  Don't  give  me  an 
answer  to-night;  it  is  the  last  thing  I  desire.  I  have 
thrown  out  my  suggestion.     Consider  it.     To-morrow 


MAncRLLA. 


329 


IS  Sunday.  If  you  aro  disi)o.se(l  to  carry  it  further 
come  and  see  me  Monday  morning- that's  all  I 
will  be  at  your  serviee  at  any  hour,  and  I  can  then 
give  you  a  niuoii  more  complete  outline  of  the  inten- 
tions of  the  Company.  Xow  I  really  must  go  and 
look  for  Mrs.  Pearson's  carriage." 

Wharton  followed  the  great"man  half  mechanicallv 
across  the  little  room,  his  mind  in  a  whirl  of  minted 
rage  and  desire.  Then  suddenly  he  stopped  his  (im- 
])anion  : 

''Has  George  Denny  anything  to  lo  with  this  pro- 
posal, Mr.  J?earson  V  " 

Mr.  Pearson  paused,  with  a  little  air  of  vague 
cogitation.  f^"  ' 

"George  Denny  ?  Mr.  George  Denny,  the  member 
for  A\  estropp  ?  1  have  had  no  .lealings  whatever  with 
tliat  gentleman  in  the  matter." 

Wharton  let  him  pass. 

Then  as  he  himself  entered  the  tea-room,  he  per- 
ceived the  bending  form  of  Aldous  Kaeburn  chatting 
to  Lady  AV  mterbourne  on  his  right,  and  that  tall 
whiteness  close  in  front,  waiting  for  him 

His  brain  cleared  in  a  flash.  He  was  perfectly 
conscious  that  a  bribe  had  just  been  offered  him  of 
the  most  daring  ami  cynical  kind,  and  that  he  ha.l 
received  the  offer  in  the  tamest  way.  An  insult  had 
been  put  upon  him  which  had  for  ever  revealed  the 
estimate  held  of  him  by  certain  shrewd  people,  for 
over  degraded  him  in  his  own  eyes. 

Nevertheless,  he  was  also  conscious  that  the  thing 
was  done.  The  bribe  would  be  accepted,  th.  v\.t 
taken.     So  far  as  his  money-matters  were  concerned 


"i  f< 


330 


MARC  ELL  A, 


he  was  once  more  a  free  niai..     Tl.e  mind  had  adjusted 
itself,  readied  its  decision  in  a  few  minutes. 

And  the  first  effect  of  the  min.^ded  excitement  and 
self-contenii)t  Avhicli  the  decision  hrouj,dit  with  it  had 
been  to  drive  him  into  the  scene  with  Maicella.  In- 
stinctively he  aske<l  of  passion  to  deliver  him  quickly 
from  the  smart  of  a  n^v,  and  very  disagreeable 
exi)erience. 

Well!  why  shouhl  he  not  take  these  men's  oifer? 
He  was  as  much  convinced  as  thev  that  this  whole 
matter  of  the  strike  had  of  late  come  to  a  deadlock 
So  long  as  the  public  wouhl  give,  the  workers,  pas- 
sionately certain  of  the  justi.'e  of  their  own  cause, 
and  filled  with  new  ambitions  after  more  decent  livin- 
would  hold  out.      On  the  other  hand,  he  perfectly 
understood  that  the  masters  had  also  in  many  ways 
a  strong  case,  that  they  had  been  very  hard  hit  by 
the  strike,  and  that  many  of  them  would  rather  close 
their  works  or  transfer  them  bodily  to  the  Continent 
than  give  way.     Some  of  the  facts  Pearson  had  foun.l 
time  to  mention  had  been  certaiidy  new  and  striking. 
At  the  same  time  he  never  disguised  from  himself 
for  an  instant  that  but  for  a  prospective  20,000/.  the 
facts  concterned  would  not  have  affected  him  in  the 
least.     Till  to-night  it  had  been  to  his  interest  to  back 
the  strike,  and  to  harass  the  employers.     Now  thin.r.s 
were  changed ;  and  he  took  a  (nirious  satisfaction  hi 
the  (juick  movements  of  his  own  intelligence,  as  his 
thought   rapidly  sketched   the  "curve"   the    Chirlou 
u'ould  have  to  take,  and  the  arguments  by  which  he 
would  commend  it. 


MAnCELlA. 


831 


As  to  liis  sliiims,  thev  would  ho  convoitibh.  of 
oourse  into  iiumediato  casii.  Some  nian  of  straw 
would  be  fortlicomins  to  buy  what  lie  would  i.ossoss 
in  the  name  of  anothci-  in;ni  of  straw.  Tt  was  not 
supposed —  he  took  for  ^nanted  —  by  the  men  who 
had  dared  to  tempt  him,  that  he  would  risk  his  whole 
l)olitieal  reputation  and  career  for  anytliing  less  than 
a  bird  in  the  hand. 

Well!  what  were  the  (diances  of  secreey  ? 
Naturally  they  stood  to  lose  less  by  disclosure,  a 
good  deal,  than  he  did.  And  Denny,  one  of  the  pnn- 
cipal  employers,  was  his  personal  enemv.  He  would 
be  likely  enough  for  the  present  to  keep  his  name 
out  of  the  affaii-.  P,ut  no  man  of  the  world  could 
suppose  that  the  transaction  would  pass  without  his 
knowledge.  Wharton's  own  hasty  question  to  Mr. 
Pearson  on  the  subject  seemed  to  himself  now,  in 
cold  blood,  a  remarkably  foolish  one. 

He  walked  up  and  down  thinking  this  point  out. 
It  was  the  bitter  pill  of  the  whole  affair. 

In  the  end,  with  a  sudden  recklessness  of  youth  and 
resource,  he  resolved  to  dare  it.  There  woilld  not  be 
much  risk.  Men  of  business  do  not  as  a  rule  blazon 
their  own  dirty  work,  and  public  opinion  would  be 
important  to  the  new  Syndicate. 

Some  risk,  of  course,  there  Avould  be.  Well !  his 
risks,  as  they  stood,  were  pretty  considerable.  He 
chose  the  lesser  —  not  without  something  of  a  struggle, 
some  keen  personal  smart.  He  had  done  a  good' 
many  mean  and  questionable  things  in  his  time,""  but 
never  anything  as  gross  as  this.  TIk-  thought  of  what 
his  relation  to  a  certain  groui,  of   men  — to  Denny 


h^\ 


I 


i;*'  ml 


i! 


3.'i2 


MAliCfJLLA. 


iM 


Kut  >    „  the  pnrt  „f  M,e  ,„„„  „,■  ,„,,,„„  .^  ; 

»<TU1,1„  and  fear  l„.l,in,l  him  „„  ,«™.sio„.     .Is,.., 
wa.s  111  qiiost.ion. 

'; ' ,  '*  °*';™  "I"'"'''.  ^""1  .^ee  hi,,,  on  Mo,„Iav.    \C 

Man.,.Ih,,s   -I.,  the   „„,„  „„„M„.  ,aa„a.,.,lis,„„.,: 

A„,l--  Ma,.,.i.lla:  H„,v  sh..„|,l  ,|„.  ,.v,„.  k„,„v  pv,.,. 
™si«...t  ,S1„,  ah.,.a,lv  ,li»l,ke.,l  the  violono  \v  , 
wh,oh  th„  ,,ape..  ha,l  sup,„„.t.,,  t|„.  ,t,,ike.     He  „„  , 

the  jmblic  would  see,  to  her. 

Tlu.,,  i„se„sihly  ho.  let  his  thnushts  gli.le  into  think- 
mg  of  the  „,„„oy.     |.,e,e„tly  he  drew  a  sheet  of  papn. 

.    By  (ieo,.ge  -  ho,v  well  it  wo,.ked  out !     ]  y 
he  t,n,e  he    hrew  it  a.side,  a„d  walked  to  the  window 

<.   the  Syndicate -the  promoter  i„  the  pnblie  interest 
of  a  just  and  well-considered  schenie 

Fmally    with  a  little  ,,„yons   eno,.,etie   n.ovement 
«hi,,h  betrayed  tne    ,nner  Man,  he   fluns  dow.i   hi. 
.gare  te,  and  tur.red  to  ,n.ite  an  ardent  letter  t, 
Marcella,  while  the  morning  sun  stole  into  t^dlj; 

Diffieult  ?  of  oonrse  !    Koth  now  and  in  the  t„tn,.,. 

atto.d  ,t_  to  br,,,,.  he,,  bound  and  captive.  He  reco--- 
n>sed  m  her  the  sonthern  eleu.ent,  so  strangelv  ,nat  :■ 
w.th  the  moral  Knglish  te„,pe,..     ^•et  he  smiled  o  'e 


I   ,1 


yfAU(JELLA. 


888 


it.     Tlu'   suhtletics   of   tlio   struggle   he   1 


„,.,,.  on--   '"^    iOresaw  en- 

chanted hini. 

And  she  w<Hdd  be  nmsfcered  !  In  this  heightene.l 
state  o^  nerve  lus  n.an's  resolution  only  rose  the  n.ore 
hereely  to  the  ehallenge  of  her  r.-sistanee 

Nor  should  she  eh^-at  him  uith  long  (U-lays  Ffis 
inco.ne  would  be  his  own  again,  and  life  de<.entlv 
I'asy  He  already  felt  hinuself  the  vain  showman  <if 
her  l)eauty, 

A  tl.ousht  of  TMv  S..Ii„a  or„ss,.,l  liis  niin,!.  ,„,,. 

.lunniK  m,ms,.„„.„t  ,m,I  ,.o„,|„ssio„  -  i,„|„lK,.„t  a,„L.. 
""■"t,  snc'l.  us  t|„.y„„„s  ,„an  is  ,.|,f,,„  ,v„|  towards  tl„. 

sim.sto,  of  tl„rt,y-Hv,.  wl,„  pays  l,i,n  aftn.tinn.     \  - 

ten,  se,,,.  „f  ,...-l,alMlitation,  too,  „.,,i„„  at  t ,o„„.nt 

vas  ,.avt„.„la,-lv  w,.|,.o„„..      Kor,  no  ,Io„|,t,  l,o  ,„i.H,t 

l.avc  ,„avne,I  her  a,„l  I,,.,-  fort,,,,,.  I,a,l  |,„  «„  ,„„:.„ 

As  ,t  was,  why  ,li,|„-t  sho  H„,l  «,„„.  „,.e,ly  boy  to  tak.^ 

.%  on  he,-?     The,.H  were  „le„ty  ,oi,„,  a„,l  she  „„,» 

ave  ab„,„la„„e  of  ,„o„ey.     01,1  Al.esfovcl,  too.  was 

t  St  ,I„<We,.„,,.  „ft  the  sta^e.  a,„ltl,e„  whe,v  wo„hl 

he  be_w,th,-,t  Ahvsfov,!  Ho„se.  »,■  |i„sbn,lge,  „ 

hrift™"""'""' ''"''"""''  "■'"'■'■  '""'  l'i«'«rto  l,eld 

Karlyon  Sunday  mor„i„K  Wharton  te]eg,aphe,l  to 

ii""'  Tr""f  "y':/"  ;•  '•°""' "" "'  '""•^'  '"'■ '-— ■ 

Bent  nl         '!,  ^'  '''^'  "'^  •'""•"•  "f  ">*  «„„-o„ 

party  of  la,l,es,  „,eln,l,ng  a,  yonng  D.a-hess,  who  was 

lit  "'■'?■     V"""  """^''"•"'  ■■'  '«'*■■■ »"  «- 

poMtio,:  ,n  urtairs  at  Dun.esley  whi,.h,  to  tlie  p,-aetise.l 


.1 


i;r 


334 


MARC  ELL  A. 


U   i 


Rye,  oontaiiied  oim-  paraKiaj.h  -  but  one  only  -  whereii, 

the  (lawn  of  a  new  pdicy  nii-ht  hav..  been  .lisoerned 

-Naturally  the  juxtaposition  of  events  at  the  moment 

gave  him  (-(msideiable  anxiety,     lie  knew  very  well 

that  the  Damcsley  bart,Min  eould  not  be  kent  waitin^ 

riu.  masters  were  losing  heavily  every  day,  and  wei^e 

not  likely  to  let  him  postin.ne  the  execution  of  his  part 

<)t  the  contract  for  a  fortnight  or  so  to  suit  his  own 

convenience.     It  was  like  the  sale  of  an  *' old  master  " 

His  influence  must  be  sold  now_,it  the  ripe  moment 

—  or  not  at  all. 

At  th.'  sam..  time  it  was  very  awkward,  h,  one 
short  fortnight  the  meeting  of  tiie  party  would  be  up,,,, 
him.  Surrender  on  the  J)ameslev  (piestion  would 
give  great  offence  to  many  of  the  Labour  memb(>rs. 
It  would  have  to  be  very  carefully  managed  — very 
carefully  thought  cmt. 

By    eleven    o'clock    on    iMonduy   he    was   in    M,- 
Pearson's  office.     After   the   first   involuntary  smile" 
concealed  by  the  fair  moustaches,  and  instantly  dis- 
missed, with  which  the  eminent  laAvyer  greeted  the 
annoiinceinent  of   his  visitoi's  name,  the  two  augurs 
carried  through   their  affairs  with    perfect   decomm. 
Wharton   realised,  indeed,  that  l.e  was  being  firnily 
handled.     Mr.    Pearson   gave  the  Clarion  a  week  in 
which   to   accomplish  its  retreat  and  drop  its  strike 
fund.     And  the  fund  was  to  be  "checked "  as  soon  as 
possible. 

A  little  later,  when  Wharton  abruptly  demanded  a 
guarantee  of  secrecy,  Mr.  Pearson  allowed  himself  his 
first  —  visible  —  smile. 

•'My  dear  sir,  arc  such  things  generally  made  public 


yfAliCKLLA. 


335 


property  '.'  I  ,.i,i  jrivo  you  no  Letter  as.snranoe  than 
you  can  extract  ynirsclf  from  the  rin-u-ustanccs  As 
to  writuig- well  !-  I  sl.oul.l  advise  you  very  strnnfflv 
u^^•llnst  anything  of  the  sort.  A  h)ng  eyperieure  has 
convinced  mo  that  in  any  .h.li.nite  negotiation  the 
k'ss  that  is  wr/thot  the  better." 

Towards   the  end  VVhartou  turned  upon  his  com- 
panion sharply,  and  asked : 

"  How  did  you  discover  that  I  wanted  money  ?  '' 
Mr.  Pearson  lifted  his  eyebrows  pleasantly. 
**Most  of  the  things  in  this  wor.<(.  ,\Tr. '  Wharton 
that  one  wants  to  know,  can  be  fuuni;  .mh.     Now—  I 
have  no  wish  to  hurry  you -not  in  the  least,  but   I 
«iay  perhaps  mention   that  I  have  an  important  ai,- 
rnntment   directly.      Don't  you   think  -  w     ini-ht 
t.-ttle  our  business?"  " 

A\'harton  was  half-humorously  conscious  of  an  in- 
vv.'-rd  leai,  «t  fury  with  the  necessities  which  had  -ivn 
this  man -to  whom  he  had  taken  an  instantaneous 
dislike -the  power  of  dealing  thus  summarily  with 
the  member  for  West   Jirookshire.     However,"  there 
was  no  help  for  it;  lie  submitted,  and  twenty  minutes 
afterwards  he  left  Lincoln's  Jnn  carrying  documents 
in  the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat  which,  when  broiioht 
under  his  bankers'  notice,  would  be  worth  to  him'an 
immediate  advance  of  some  eight  thousand    ^.ounds. 
The  remainder  of  the  purchase-money  for  his  "shares" 
would  be  ])aid  over  to  him  as  soon  as  his  part  of  the 
contract  had  been  carried  out. 

He  did  not,  however,  go  to  his  bank,  but  straight  to 
the  Cktrion  office,  where  he  had  a  mid-day  appoint- 
ment with  Louis  Craven. 


f! 


;J 


Ih.i 


336 


M  ARC  ELLA. 


At  first  sight  of  the  tall,  narrow-shouldered  form 
and  anxious  face  waiting  for  him  in  his  private  room, 
Wharton  felt  a  movement  of  ill-humour. 

Craven  had  the  morning's  Clarion  in  his  hand. 

"This  cannot  mean  "  —  he  said,  when  they  had  ex- 
changed a  brief  salutation  —  "  that  the  paper  is  bac.'k- 
ing  out  ?  " 

He  pointed  to  the  suspicious  par.-igraph  in  Wliarton's 
leader,  his  delicate  features  (piivering  with  an  excite- 
ment he  could  ill  repress. 

"Well,  let  us  sit  down  and  discuss  the  thing,'' 
said  Wharton,  closing  the  door,  "that's  what  I  wired 
to  you  for." 

He  offered  Craven  a  cigarette,  which  was  refused, 
took  one  himself,  and  the  two  men  sat  confronting 
each  other  with  a.  writing-table  between  them.  Whar- 
ton was  disagreeably  conscious  at  times  of  the  stitf 
papers  in  his  coat-pocket,  and  was  perhaps  a  little 
paler  than  usual.  Otherwise  he  showed  no  trace  of 
mental  disturbance;  and  Craven,  himself  jaded  and 
sleepless,  was  struck  with  a  momentary  perception  of 
his  companion's  boyish  good  looks  — the  tumbling  curls, 
that  Wharton  straightened  now  and  then,  the  charm- 
ing blue  eyes,  the  athlete's  frame.  Any  stranger 
would  have  taken  Craven  for  the  older  man  ;  in  reality 
it  was  the  other  way. 

The  conversation  lasted  nearly  an  hour.  Craven 
exhausted  both  argument  and  entreaty,  though  when 
the  completeness  of  the  retreat  resolved  upon  had  been 
disclosed  to  him,  the  feeling  roused  in  him  was  so 
iierce  that  he  could  barely  maintain  his  composure. 
He  had  been  living  among  scenes  of  starvat?  :  ^  and 


MARCELLA. 


337 


endurance,  which,  to  his  mind,  liad  all  the  character  of 
martyrdon|,.     These  men  and  women  were  struggling 
for    wo  objects -the  power  to  live  more  humank^ 
and  the  free  right  of  combination- to  both  of  which 
If  need  were,  he  would  have  given  his  own  life  to  hehi 
them   without   an   instant's   hesitation.      Behind  his 
blinking  manner  he  saw  everything  with  the  idealist's 
intensity,  the  reformer's  passion.     To  be  fair  to  an 
employer  was  not  in  his  power.     To  spend  his  last 
breath,  were  it  called  for,  in  the  attempt  to  succour 
the   workmg-man   against   his    capitalist   oppressors, 
would  have  seemed  t  .  him  the  merest  matter  of  course 
And  his  mental  acuteness  was  (piite  equal  to  his 
enthusiasm,  and  far  more  evident.     In  his  talk  with 
W  harton,  he  for  a  long  time  avoided,  as  before,  out 
ot   a  certain   in.u  .  disdain,    the    smallest   touch   of 
.sen  iment.     He  pointed  out  _  what,  indeed,  Wharton 
well  knew -that  the  next  tAvo  or  three  weeks  of  the 
strike  would  be  the  most  critical  period  in  its  history  • 
that,  It  the  work-people  could  only  be  carried  throu.^h 
them,  they  were  almost  sure  of  victory.     He  gave  his 
own  reasons  for  believing  that  the  employers  could 
ultimately  be  coerced,  he  offered  proof  of  yielding 
auioiig  them,  proof  also  that  the  better  men 'in  their 
ranks  were  fully  alive  to  and  ashamed  of  the  condition 
of  the  workers.     As  to  the  Syndicate,  he  saw  no  objec- 
tion  to  It,  provided   the   workers'   claims  were  lirst 
admitted.     Otherwise   it   would  only   prove  a  more 
powerful  engine  of  oppression. 

Wharton's  arguments  may  perhaps  be  left  to  the 
imagination.  He  would  have  liked  simply  to  play  the 
proprietor   and    the    master -^t 


VOL.  II.  — 22 


say 


Th 


,P 


IS     IS 


my 


i  SlJi 


338 


MARCELLA. 


decision,  those  are  mj  terms  —take  my  work  or  leave 
it."  But  Craven  was  Miss  Boyce's  friend;  he  was 
also  a  Venturist.  Chafing  under  both  facts,  Wharton 
found  that  he  must  state  his  case. 

And  he  did  state  it  with  his  usual  ability.  He  laid 
great  stress  on  ^'  information  from  a  private  source 
which  I  cannot  disregard,"  to  the  effect  that,  if  the 
resistance  went  on,  the  trade  would  be  broken  up; 
that  several  of  the  largest  employers  were  on  the  point 
of  making  arrangements  for  Italian  factories. 

"  I  know,"  he  said  finally,  •>  that  but  for  the  Clarion 
the  strike  would  drop.  Well !  I  have  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  responsibility  is  too  heavy.  I  shall 
be  doing  the  men  themselves  more  harm  than  good. 
There  is  the  case  in  a  nutshell.  We  diifer  — I  can't 
help  that.     The  responsibility  is  mine." 

Craven  rose  with  a  quick,  nervous  movement.  The 
prophet  spoke  at  last. 

"You  understand,"  he  said,  laying  a  thin  hand  on 
the  table,  -  that  the  condition  of  the  workers  in  this 
trade  is  infamous!— tl^it  the  award  and  your  action 
together  plunge  tliem  back  into  a  state  of  things  which 
is  a  shame  and  a  mrse  to  England  ! " 

Wharton  made  no  answer.  He,  too,  had  risen,  and 
was  putting  away  some  .i)apers  in  a  drawer.  A  tremor 
ran  through  Craven's  tall  frame  ;  and  for  an  instant,  as 
his  eye  rested  on  his  companion,  the  idea  of  foul  play 
crossed  his  mind.  He  cast-  it  out,  that  he  might  deal 
calmly  with  his  own  posSuon. 

"  Of  course,  you  perceive,"  he  said,  as  he  took  up 
Ills  hat,  '■  that  I  can  no  longer  on  these  terms  remain 
the  Clarion's  currespondent.  .Somebodv  else  must  be 
found  to  do  this  business." 


MARCELLA. 


339 


"  I  regret  your  decision,  immensely,"  said  Wharton, 
with  perfect  suavity,  -  but  of  course  I  understand  it.' 
I  trust,  however,  that  you  will  not  leave  us  altogether. 
T  can  give  you  plenty  of  work  that  will  suit  you. 
Here,  for  instance "  — he  pointed  to  a  pile  of  Blue 
Books  from  the  Labour  Commission  lying  on  the  table 
—  "are  a  number  of  reports  that  want  analysing  and 
putting  before  the  public.  You  could  do  them  in  town 
at  your  leisure." 

Craven  struggled  with  himself.  His  first  instinct 
was  to  fling  the  offer  in  Wharton's  face.  Then  he 
thought  of  his  wife;  of  the  tiny  new  household  just 
started  with  such  small,  happy,  self-denying  shifts';  of 
the  woman's  inevitable  lot,  of  the  hope  of  a  child. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said,  in  a  husky  voice.  "I  will 
consider,  1  will  write." 

Wharton  nodded  to  him  pleasantly,  and  he  went. 
The  owner  of  the  Clarhu  drew  a  long  breath. 
"Now  I  think  on  the   whole   it  would  serve   my 
purpose  best  to  sit  down  and   write   to   /ier  — after 
that,     rt  would  be  well  that  my  account  should  come 
first." 

A  few  hours  later,  after  an  interview  with  Ids 
bankers  and  a  further  spell  of  letter-writing,  Wharton 
descended  the  steps  of  his  club  in  a  curious  restless 
state.  The  mortgage  on  the  Clarion  had  been  arranged 
for,  his  gambling  debts  settled,  and  all  his  other 
money  matters  were  successfully  in  train.  Neverthe- 
less, the  exhilaration  of  the  morning  had  passed  into 
misgiving  and  depression. 

\'ague   presentiments    hung    about    him    all 
whether  in  the  House  of  (loinmons  oi-  A 


(Ui' 


>'here,  and 


Z: 


! 

i  j 

J    ff 

■\  ^R 

\ 

1 


340 


MARC  ELL  A. 


It  was  not  till  he  found  himself  on  his  legs  at  -i 
crowded  meeting  at  Rotherhithe,  violently  attacking 
the  Government  Bill  and  the  House  of  Lords,  that  ho 
recovered  that  easy  contidence  in  the  general  favour- 
ableness of  the  universe  to  Harry  Wharton,  an.l 
Hurry  Wharton's  plans,  which  lent  him  so  much  of 
his  power. 

A  letter  from  Marcella  — written  before  she  had 
received  either  of  his  — reached  him  at  the  House 
just  before  he  started  for  his  meeting.  A  touching 
letter  :  —  yet  with  a  certain  resolution  in  it  Avhich  dis- 
concerted him. 

-  Forget,  if  you  will,  everything  that  yon  said  to  me 
last  night.    It  might  be  —  I  believe  it  would  be  —  best 
for  us  both.     But  if  you  will  not  -  if  I  must  give  my 
answer,  then,  as  I  said,  1  must  have  time.     It  is  only 
(luite  recently  that  I  have  realised  the  enormity  of  what 
1  did  last  year.     I  must  run  no  risks  of  so  wrenohin- 
my  own  life  -  or  another's  —  a  second  time.     Xot  to 
be  sure  is  for  me  torment.     Why  perfect  simplicity  of 
feeling  — which  would  scorn  the  very  notion  of  (pies- 
tioning  Itself -seems  to  be  beyond  me,  I  do  not  know. 
Ihat  It  IS  so  fills  me  with  a,  soit  of  shame  and  bitter- 
ness.    But  I  must  follow  my  nature. 

-So  let  me  think  it  out.  I  believe  you  know,  for 
one  thing,  that  your  'cause,'  your  life-work,  attracts 
me  strongly.  I  should  not  any  longer  accept  all  you 
say,  as  I  did  last  yeai-.  But  mere  opinion  matters 
infinitely  less  to  me  than  it  did.  I  can  imagine  now 
agreeing  with  a  friend  'in  everything  except  opinion.' 
All  that  would  matter  to  me  now  would  be  to  feel 
that  yoitr  heart  was   wholly  in  your  work,  in  your 


MAliCELLA. 


341 


ig 


)ur 


public  acts,  so  tluit  i  might  still  aduiiro  and  love  all 
that  I  might  diffei-  from.     But  there  — for  we  must 
be  frank  with  each  other  — is  just  my  difficulty.    Why 
do  you  do  so  many  contradictory  things  ?    Why  do  yoii 
talk  of  the  poor,  of  labour,  of  self-denial,  and  live 
wlienever  you  can  with  the  idle  rich  people,  wlio  hate 
all  three  in  their  hearts?     Vou  talk  their  language; 
you  scorn  what  they  scorn,  or  so  it  seems;  you  accept 
their  standards.     Oh  !  —  to  the  really  '  consecrate  '  in 
heart  and  thought  I  could  give  my  life  so  easily,  so 
slavishly  even!     There  is  no  one  weaker  than  I  in 
the  world.    I  must  have  strength  to  lean  upon  —  and  a 
strength,  pure  at  the  core,  that  I  can  respect  and  follow. 
*'  Here  in  this  nursing  life  of  mine,  I  go  in  and  out 
among  people  to  the  best  of  whom  life  is  very  real  and 
sample- and  often,  of  course,  very  sad.     And  I  am 
another  being  in  it  from  what  I  was  at  Lady  Winter- 
bourne's.     Everything  looks  differently  tome.     No. 
Uo!  you  must  please  wait  till  the  inner  voice  speaks 
so  that  1  can  hear  it  plainly  — for  your  sake  at  least 
as  nnich  as  for  mine.     If  you  persisted  in  coming  to 
see  me  now,  I  should  Lave  to  put  an  end  to  it  all." 

"  Strange  is  the  modern  woman  !  "  thought  Wharton 
to  himself,  not  without  sharp  pique,  as  he  pondered 
that  letter  in  the  course  of  his  drive  home  from  the 
meeting.  "  1  talk  to  her  of  passion,  and  she  asks  me 
m  return  why  I  do  things  inconsistent  with  my  politi- 
(•al  opinions !  puts  me  through  a  moral  catechism,  in 
tact!  What  is  the  meaning  of  it  all  —  confound'it ! 
—  her  state  of  mind  and  mine?  Is  the  good  old 
ars  amamli  perislnng  out  of  the  world  ?  Let  some 
Stendhal  come  and  tell  us  why  !  " 


I}'  '■: 


■l'1< 

. 

_] 

U2 


majkklla. 


But  Jie  sat,  up  to  answer  her,  and  ('ould  not  get  free 
from  an  inward  pleading  or  wrestle  with  her  whicli 
haunted  him  through  all  the  intervals  of  these  rapid 
days.  ^ 

Life  while  th<.y  lasted  va.  indeed  a  gymnast's  con- 
test of  breath  and  endunuice.     ".rhe  Ckmon  made  its 
r.*treat  in  WhartoiVs  linest  stvie,  and  the  fact  rang 
through  labouring  England.     The  strike-leaders  came 
up  trom  the  Midlands;    Wharton  had  to  see  them 
He  was  hotly  attacked  in  the  House  privately,  and 
even  publicly  by  certain  of  liis  colleagues.     Bennett 
showed  coiicern  aijd  annoyanep.     Meanwhile  the  Con- 
servative ])aT«>r8  talked  the  usiial  employers'  political 
economy;   and  the  J.iberal  papers,  whose  support  of 
the  strike  had  been  throughout  perfunctory,  and  of 
no  i)articular  use  to  themselves  or  to  other  people 
took  a  lead  tiiey  were  glad  to  get,  and  went  in  stronglv 
tor  the  aAvard.        * 

Through  it  all  Wharton  showed  extraordinary  skill 
'I  he  columns  of  the  Ckuion.  teemed  with  sympathetic 
appeals  to  the  strikers,  flanked  by  long  statements  of 
'•hard  fact  '  —  the  details  of  foreign  competition  and 
the  rest,  the  plans  of  the  masters  —  freely  supplied 
him  by  Mr.  Pearson.     With  Bennett  and  his  colleagues 
in  the  House  he  took  a  bold  line ;  admitted  that  he 
had  endangered  his  popularity  both  inside  Parliament 
and  out  of  it  at  a  particularly  critical  moment ;  and 
iniphed,  though  he  did  not  say,  that  some  men  were 
still  capable  of  doing  independent  things  to  their  own 
hurt.     ,AIeanwhile  he  pushed  a  number  of  other  mat- 
ters to  the  front,  both  in  the  paper  and  in  his  own 

dailv  doinL>-s,      Hn  niade  'it  Ipnef  U%'-  - -   4-      i  1 

o -'    —  "ia«,r  .tL.  ictibE  twu  uupux-taiit  Speeches 


MAIiCELLA. 


343 


in  the  provinces,  in  the  course  of  tliese  days,  on  the 
Bill  before  the  House  of  Lords ;  he  asked  questions 
in  Parliament  on  the  subject  of  the  wages  paid  to 
Government  employes  ;  and  he  opened  an  attack  on 
the  report  of  a  certain  Conservative  Commission  which 
had  been  rousing  the  particular  indignation  of  a  large 
mass  of  South  London  working  men. 

At  the  end  of  ten  days  the  strike  was  over;  the 
workers,  sullen  and  enraged,  had  submitted,  and  the 
plans  of  the  Syndicate  were  in  all  the  papers.  Whar- 
ton, looking  round  him,  realised  to  his  own  amaze- 
ment that  his  political  position  had  rather  gained  than 
suffered.  The  general  impression  produced  by  his 
action  had  been  on  the  whole  that  of  a  man  strong 
enough  to  take  a  line  of  his  own,  even  at  the  risk  of 
unpopularity.  There  was  a  new  tone  of  respect 
among  his  opponents,  and,  resentful  as  some  of  the 
Labour  members  were,  Wharton  did  not  believe  that 
what  he  had  done  would  ultimately  damage  his  chances 
on  the  10th  at  all.  He  had  vindicated  his  importance, 
and  he  held  his  head  high,  adopting  towards  his  chances 
of  the  leadership  a  strong  and  careless  tone  that  served 
liim  well. 

Meanwhile  there  were,  of  course,  clever  people 
behind  the  scenes  who  looked  on  and  laughed.  But 
they  held  their  tongues,  and  Wharton,  who  had  care- 
fully avoided  the  mention  of  names  during  the  nego- 
tiations with  Pearson,  did  his  best  to  forget  them. 
He  felt  uncomfortable,  indeed,  when  he  passed  the 
portly  Denny  in  the  House  or  in  the  street.  Denny 
luid  a  way  of  looking  at  the  member  for  West  Brook- 
shire  out  of  the  corner  of  a  small,  slit-like  eye.     He 


844 


^fATiCELLA. 


ifr 


i  - 


.lid  it  „„„.o  t|,a„  „„„,  ,|,„.„„  ,1,,,^,,  ^1^ 

ton  ha,l  o„lv  t„«ay  t„  l,i„,,.,„  that:  r,„.aM  ihi,,,.  th    .. 

IS  a  price  —  ivliioh  tli,.  g„tU  mu-X. 
Wilkins,  since  t,l,c   M,.„t  ,iis,.l„s„,v  „r  tl,„  Clarion 

.■-..««    o      policy,    l.a,l    l.cc„    u»..ni.sl,i„„/ !  .T 
...•to,,  ta,  ,„a,,o  certain  of  violet  at^iu  C 

.....      On     l,c   co.itrary,   Wilkin.,  wore  now  in   the 
Honso  a  snlKlucrt  an,l  ,,„.-occ„pie,l  air   that  escape! 
m>t,cc  eve.,  w,th  his  own  party  i„  the  gene,.al  ful^ 
ot  the  p,,bl,c  „„n,l.     A  few  ,.a„stic  „o,^I,-,.o„„tryisn, 
on  tl,e  subject  of  tl,e  C7,„.,-„„  an.l  its  „,uster,li,l  iS 
osoapc  l„,n  now  and  then,  a„,I  we,.e  reported      o 
...outl.  to  n,outI,;  bnt  ou  the  whole  he  layvcy  low 

>St,Il,  „^,e  her  in  elation  or  anxiety,  Wliarton  see.ncd 
to  h„nselt  th,m,«l,ont  tl,e  whole  period  to  be  a  n<,C 

tnu,,,,,,.  eve,,v  „,„scle,  his  back  to  the  wall  and  his' 
ha.,d  ag,„„st  eve,,-  ,nan.     Tl,e,-e  at  the  end  of  the  fo,t. 
...ght  stoo.l  the  tl„-ee  goal-posts  that  ,„nst  be  passc, 
...  v,ct„,.y  or  defeat;  the  .neeting  that  would  fo,.'t  e 

^,e«  with  Marcella,  and  -  the  confounded  annml 
mee  ,„g  of  the  ••  IVople's  Banking  Co,npanv,'  « 'tZ^ 
Its  threatened  annoyances. 

He  beca,ne  indeed,  ,„ore  and  n.ore  occupied  with 
. !..»  latter  bus,ness  as  the  days  went  on.  But  he  con  I 
-e  ,,„  way  of  ev.Jing  it.  He  wouM  have  to  fi..ht  it ' 
!  iickily,  now,  he  had  the  ,no„ey.  "         ' 

The  an,mal  meeting  took  place  two  days  before  that 
fixed  for  the  co„„nittee  of  the  Labour  party.    Wha,  o, 
was  not  present  at  it,  and  in  spite  „f'an^,,e  Z^^ 
he  gave  wa.v  to  certain  lively  ,n„ve,„e„ts  of  disgust 
u..d   dep,.ess,on   when  at  his  ,.|nb  he  first  >,ot  i;,],! 


MAllCELLA. 


U^ 


of  tho  evoninrr  papors  coi.taiiiin-  tli.-  ivp..rfs.  His 
n.'imo,  of  com-sf,  fij^Mirod  amply  in  tlir  (IcnuiKuations 
heaped  upon  tlio  <lirfctors  of  all  .lat^s ;  the  .sums 
whifh  he  with  otlH'is  won.  supposed  to  have  made 
out  of  the  first  dealing's  with  the  sliares  on  th.*  Stock 
i':x('hange  were  freely  mentioned;  and  the  sharehold- 
ers as  a  body  had  slioui.  thems.dv,.s  most  uneomtort- 
ably  violent.  H.-  at  once  wrote  off  a  letter  to  the 
papers  diselaimin.ic  all  responsibility  for  the  worsr 
irregularities  whieh  had  ocourre.l,  and  courting  full 
(Miquiry  —  a  letter  whieh,  as  usual,  both  convinced  and 
affectefl  himself. 

Then  he  went,  restless  and  fuming,  down  to  the 
flouse.  JJenuett  passed  him  in  the  lobbv  with  an 
uneasy  and  averted  eye.  Whereupon  Wharton  seized 
uix)n  him,  carried  him  into  the  Library,  and  talked  to 
him.  till  Bennett,  who,  in  spite  of  his  extraordinary 
shrewdness  and  judgnuuit  in  certain  departments,  was 
a  i)abe  in  matters  of  company  tina^ice,  wore  a  some- 
what cheered  countenance. 

They  came  out  into  the  lobby  together,  Wharton 
holding  his  head  very  high. 

'•I  shall  deal  with  the  whole  thing  in  my  speech  on 
Thursday!"  he  said  aloud,  as  they  ])arted.' 
Hennett  gave  him  a  friendly  nod  and  smile. 
There  was  in  this  little  man.  with  his  considerable 
"i-ain  and  his  poet's  heart,  something  of  the  '•  imper- 
ishable child."  Like  a  wholesome  chihl.  he  did  not 
f'asdy  «' think  evil";  his  temper  towards  all  men  — 
even  the  owners  of  •■  way-lea .  s  *'  and  mining  rovalties 
-was  optimist.  He  had  the  .nost  naive  admiration 
tor  Wharton's   ability,  and  for  the  academic  attain- 


?    If 


340) 


MAIiCKLLA. 


$ 


n.onts  1...  hunself  secretly  piu^.l  for;  an<l  to  the  you.,., 
complex  personality  itself  he  had  taken  from  thr 
>'>Kinmng  un  uiiaecountable  liking.  The  bond  he 
tueen  the  two,  though  incongruous  and  recent,  was 
real ;  Wharton  was  as  glad  of  Bennett's  farewell  kind 
ness  as  Bennett  had  been  of  the  younger  n.an's  ex-' 
plaiiatuuis. 

So   that  during   that   aay  and  the  next,  Bennett 
went  .^out  eontn.du.ting,  chan.pioning,  explaining; 
hie   Wharton    laden   with    parliamentary  business 
MVid   unabashed,  and  resourceful  let  it  be  known  to 
all  whom  It  ..oncerned  that  in  his  solicitor's  opinion 
he  had  a  triumphant  answer  to  all  charges;  and  that 
meanwhile  no  one  coukl  wonder  at  the  soreness  of 
those  poor  devils  of  shareholders. 

.nl!r/'"'l^    '^"''"^    ""''•     ^^«^^»««^^y   ^vas   maiulv 
spent    by    V^  barton   ,n   a  series  of  conferences  and 
intrigues  either  at  the  House  or  at  his  club;  when  he 
drove  home  exhauste.l  at  night  he  believed  that  all 
was   arrange,!-  the   train  ir^.vocablv  laid,  and  Ins 
nomination  to  ihe  cliairmanship  of  the  party  certain' 
Uilkms  and  six  or  seven  o.'    rs  u.mld  probably 
prove  irreconcilable;  but  the  vehem  .ice  and  rancour 
shown  by  the  great  Xehemiah  du  ing  th.  summer  in 
thepursui   othisauti-Wniarton,     npaig,       .d  t  ,  son... 
ext-nt   ,  ebated   themselves.     A  personal  grudge  m 
the  hands  of  a  man  of  his  type  is  not  a  formidable 
weapon.     Wharton  would  have  felt  perfectly  easy  on 
he  subiect  but  for  some  ochl  bits  of  mannar  on  Wil- 
kins.  nart  during  the  last  forty-eight  hours -when- 
ever in  tact,  the  two  men  had  run  across  each  other 
m  the  House  -  marked  by  a  sort  of  new  and  insolent 


I 


MAUrKLLA. 


347 


\     I 

;    I 


g.^od  liuinour,  that  piiz/.lod  him.  But  tlun-e  is  a 
bravado  of  defeat.  Yes!  — he  thought  Wilkius  was 
(li  posed  of. 

From  his  present  point  of  ease  —  debts  paid,  banker 
propitiated,  income  assured — it  amazed  him  to  k)ok 
back  on  his  condition  ol  a  f()rtnip:ht  bt-fore.  Had  the 
Prince  of  Darkness  himself  tter<'d  such  a  barjijain 
it  must  liave  been  accepted.  After  all  his  hu'k  hinl 
held!  Once  get  through  (his  odious  company  busi- 
ness—  as  to  which,  with  a  pleasing  consciousness  of 
turning  the  tables,  he  had  periMiij)torily  instructed  Mr. 
Pearson  himself  —  and  the  banpi''  of  his  fortunes  was 
assured. 

Then,  with  a  quick  turn  of  the  miiul,  he  threw  the 
burden  of  aifairs  from  him.  His  very  hopefulness 
and  satisfaction  had  softened  his  mood.  There  stole 
upon  him  the  nuirmurs  aiul  voices  ot  another  world 
of  thought  —  a  world  well  known  to  his  versatility 
by  report,  though  he  had  as  ii  i-ule  small  inclination 
to  dwell  therein.  Hut  he  was  touched  and  shaken  to- 
night by  his  own  achievement.  The  heavenly  powers 
had  been  unexpectedly  kind  to  hiin,  and  he  was  half 
moved  to  offer  them  something  in  return. 

"Do  as  ^  i  are  done  by"  — that  was  an  ethic  he 
miderstood.  And  in  moments  of  feeling  he  was  as 
ready  to  apply  it  to  great  Zeus  liimself  as  to  his 
friends  or  enemies  in  the  House  ol  Commons.  Fie 
had  done  this  doubtful  thuig  — but  why  slu)uld  it  ever 
be  necessary  fo  \m  to  do  another?  Vague  philo- 
sophic yearnings  af^  virtue,  moderation,  patriot- 
ism, crossed  his  mind  The  Pagan  ideal  sometimes 
smote  and  iired  him,  the  Christian  never.     He  could 


%■ 


■M 


im  ,:r 


'   th 


V^- 


848 


yfAlK'KLlA, 


still  v.ad  !us  Plato  .-uHl   l.is  Cic.r.,,  whe.ms  ^...Ifs  o| 
unfHtho,naI,lP   distjiste   n,ll,.l    L.tu-een   l.im  a,.<l   tl... 
Xew   lostament.      |>erha,,.s  the  author  of  all  authors 
tor  whon.   he  iiad  niosl;  r.^lish  was   Montaigne      H, 
would  have  taken  Iiini  d.nvn  to-uiK-ht  had  there  been 
nothing  more  kindling    n  think  of 
^W//,,/_ah!    Marrella:      He  gave    himself  to 
the  thought  of  her  with  a  new  and  delightfid  tender- 
ness  which  had  in  it  elements  of  compunetion       After 
those  disagreeable  paragraphs  in  the  t^vening  papers 
iK'   had   instantly    written    to    hor.      «'' Every   publh- 
man" -he  had  said  to  her,  finding  instinctively  the 
note  of  dignity  that  would  ai>peal  to  her— -is  iiable 
at  some  ],eriod  of  his  career  to  charges  of  this  sort. 
Ihey  are  at  once  <  vaggerated  and  blackened,  because 
he  ,s  a  public  man      To  you  I  owe  perfect  frankness 
and  you  shall  have  it.     Meanwhile  I  do  not  ask-'[ 
know -that  you  will  be  just  to  me.  and   put  the 
matter  out  of  your  thoughts  till  I  can  discuss  it  with 
you.     Two  days  more  till  1  see  your  face  !     The  time 
IS  h)ng ! " 

To  this  there  had  been  no  answer.  Her  last  letter 
indeed  had  rung  sadly  and  coldly.  No  doubt  Louis 
Craven  had  something  to  do  with  it.  It  would  h-ive 
alarmed  him  could  he  sinu-ly  have  found  the  time  to 
think  about  it.  Vet  she  was  ready  to  see  him  on  the 
nth ;  and  his  confidence  in  his  own  powers  of  mana.^- 
ing  fate  was  tougher  than  ever.  What  pleasant  li.^ 
lie  Jiad  told  her  at  Lady  Masterton's !  Well  f  Wh-it 
passion  ever  yet  l)ut  had  its  subterfuges  ?  One  more 
wrestle,  and  he  would  have  tamed  her  to  his  wish 
wild  falcon  timt  she  was.     Then  -  pleasure  and  brave 


MARCELLA. 


840 


living!  And  shu  also  should  have  her  ^v  tv  -he 
should  breathe  into  hiin  the  language  of  tli,  it  great 
diusions  he  had  found  it  of  late  so  hard  to  feign  with 
her;  and  they  two  would  walk  and  ruh;  a  yielding 
world  together.  Action,  passion,  affairs  —  lif<!  ex- 
|)lore«l  and  exploited  —  and  at  last  —  *'r/y/,e  la  mort  im 
trenve  plantant  men  choidx  —  mafn  nonchalant  d'ello !  — 
<'l  encore  plus  de  monjardiu  imparfakt!'^ 

He  declaimed  the  words  of  the  great  Frenchman 
with  something  of  the  same  temper  in  which  the 
devout  man  would  have  made  an  act  of  faith.  Then, 
with  a  long  breath  and  a  curious  emotion,  he  went  to 
try  and  sleep  himself  into  the  new  day. 


^i>- 


lii 


^ 


Bi' 


CHAPTER  XV. 


The  following  afternoon  about  six  o'clock  Maroelhi 
came  in  from  her  second  round.  After  a  very  busy 
week,  work  happened  to  be  slack;  and  she  had  beei, 
attending-  one  or  two  cases  in  and  near  Brown's  Build- 
ings rather  because  they  were  near  than  because  they 
seriously  wanted  her.  She  looked  to  see  whether 
there  was  any  letter  or  telegram  from  the  office  which 
would  have  obliged  her  to  go  out  again.  Nothing  was 
to  be  seen;  and  sh.  put  down  her  bag  and  cloak, 
childishly  glad  of  the  extra  hour  of  rest. 

She  was,  indeed,  pale  and  worn.  The  moral  strug- 
gle which  had  tilled  the  past  fortnight  irom  end  t^. 
end  had  deepened  all  the  grooves  and  strained  the 
torces  ot  life;  and  the  path,  though  glimmering,  was 
not  wholly  plain. 

A  letter  lay  untinished  in  her  drawer  — if  she  sent 
It  that  night,  there  would  be  little  necessity  or  induce- 
ment for  Wharton  to  climb  those  stairs  (in  the  mor- 
row,     i  et,  if  he  held  her  to  it,  she  must  see  him. 

As  the  sunset  and  the  dusk  «u-ept  on  she  still  sat 
silent  and  alone,  sunk  in  a  depression  whi(,h  showed 
Itself  m  every  line  of  the  drooping  form.  She  was 
degraded  „,  her-  own  eyes.  The  nature  of  the  im- 
pulses which  had  led  her  U>  give  Wharton  the  hold 
upon  her  she  had  given  Jiim  had  become  plain  to  her 
What  lay  betw.-en  them,  and  the  worst  impulses  that 


MARCELLA. 


351 


Marcel  I  a 
ery  busy 
lad  been 
I's  Build- 
use  they 
whetliei- 
ce  wliicli 
liiny  was 
d  cloak, 

il  strug- 
:  end  to 
lied  the 
ing,  was 

he  sent 
induce- 
lie  uior- 
ini. 

itill  sat 
showed 
Hie  was 
bhe  ini- 
le  hold 
to  her. 
f's  that 


poison  the  lives  of  women,  but  differences  of  degree, 
of  expression  ?  After  those  wild  hours  of  sensuous 
revolt,  a  kind  of  moral  terror  was  upon  her. 

What  had  worked  in  her  Y  What  was  at  the  root 
of  this  vehemence  of  moral  reaction,  this  haunting 
fear  of  losing  for  ever  the  best  in  life  —  self-respect, 
the  comradeship  of  the  good,  communion  with 
things  noble  and  unstained  —  which  had  conquered 
at  last  the  mere  woman,  the  w^eakness  of  vanity  and 
of  sex  '/  She  hardly  knew.  Only  there  was  in  her 
a  sort  of  vague  thankfulness  for  her  daily  work.  It 
did  not  seem  to  be  possible  to  see  one's  own  life  solely 
under  the  aspects  of  selfish  desire  while  hands  and 
mind  were  busy  with  the  piteous  realities  of  sickness 
and  of  death.  From  evei'y  act  of  service  —  from  every 
contact  with  the  ])atience  and  simplicity  of  the  poor 
—  so niethiiiif  hud  iipoken  to  her,  that  divine  ineffable 
something  for  ever  "set  in  the  Avorld,"  like  beauty, 
like  charm,  for  the  winning  of  men  to  itself.  "  Fol- 
low truth  !  "  it  said  to  her  in  faint  mysterious  breath- 
ings—  "the  truth  of  your  own  heart.  The  sorrow- 
to  which  it  will  lead  you  is  the  only  Joy  that  remains 
to  you." 

Suddenly  she  looked  round  her  little  room  with  a, 
rush  of  tenderness.  The  windows  were  open  to  the 
evening  and  the  shouts  of  ('Jiildreu  playing  in  the 
courtyard  came  floating  up.  A  bowl  of  Mellor  roses 
scented  the  air:  the  tray  for  her  simple  meal  stood 
ready,  and  beside  it  a  volume  of  ''  The  Divine  Com- 
edy," one  of  her  mother's  very  rare  gifts  tt)  her,  in 
her  motherless   youth  —  for  of   late    slic   had  turned 


'I  - 


lliirstily  to   poetry.     Then-   was   a   great.    i»e; 


ue 


and 


I 


iit 


352 


MARCELLA. 


plainness  about  it  all ;  and,  besides,  touches  of  beauty 
-  tokens  of  the  soul.  Her  work  spoke  in  it ;  called  to 
her;  pronnsed  comfort  and  ennobling.  She  thought 
with  yearning,  too,  of  her  parents;  of  the  autumn 
Holiday  she  was  soon  to  spend  with  them.  Her  hem 
went  out -sorely -to  all  the  primal  claims  upon  it. 

Nevertheless,  clear  as  was  the  inner  resolution,  the 
immediate  future  hlled  her  ^v'ith  dread.  Her  ignorance 
of  herself -her  excitable  folly -had  given  Wharton 
rights  which  her  conscience  admitted.  He  would  not 
let  her  go  without  a  struggle,  and  she  must  face  it 

As  to  the  incidents  whi.di  had  happened  during  the 
fortnight  -  Louis  Craven's  return,  and  the  scandal  of 
the  "1  eopleVs  Banking  Company  "-they  had  troubled 
and  distressed  her ;  but  it  would  not  be  true  to  say 
that  they  had  had  any  part  in  shaping  her  slow  deter- 
nimation.     Louis  Craven  was  sore  and  bitter.     She 
was  very  sorry  for  him  ;  and  his  reports  of  the  JJanies- 
ley  strikers  made  her  miserable.     But  she  took  Whar- 
ton's  -leaders"  in  the    Clanoa  for  another  erpuilly 
competent  opinion  on  the  same  subject;  ami  told  her- 
self that  she  Avas   no  judge.     As  for  the   (jompanv 
scandal,  she  had  instantly  and  jn-oudly  responded  to 
the  appeal  of  his  letter,  and  put  tiie  matter  (mt  of  her 
thoughts,  till  at  least  he  should  give  his  own  ac^count. 
So  much  at  any  rate  she  owed  to  the  man  who  ha.] 
stood  by  her  through  the  Hurd  trial.     Marcella  l^ov.-.- 
would  not  readily  believe  in  his  dishonour!     She  di.l 
not  in  fact  believe  it.    In  spite  of  later  misgivings,  the 
impression  of  his  personality,  as  she  had  first  cmi- 
ceived  It,  111  the  early  days  at  Mellor,  was  still  too 
strong. 


MARC  ELL  A. 


353 


if 


No  —  rather— slie  had  constantly  recollected  through- 
out the  day  wliat  was  going  on  in  Parliament.  These 
were  for  him  t(\sting  and  critical  hours,  and  she  felt  a 
wistful  sympathy.  Let  him  only  rise  to  his  part  — 
take  up  his  great  task. 


■  I 


An  imperious  knocking  on  her  thin  outer  door  roused 
her.  She  went  to  open  it  and  sav/  Anthony  Craven, 
—  the  perspiration  standing  on  his  brow,  his  d.-licate 
cripple's  face  white  and  fierce. 

*'  I  want  to  talk  to  you,"  he  said  without  preface. 
"■  Have  you  seen  the  afternoon  jjapers  ?  " 

''Xo,"  she  said  in  astonishment,  '•  1  was  just  going 
to  send  for  them.     Wiiat  is  wron*'-"'"' 

He  follo\V(>d  her  into  the  sitting-room  witliout  speak- 
ing; and  then  he  unfolded  the  Pall  Mall  he  had  in 
his  hand  and  pointed  to  a  large-print  paragraph  on  the 
central  ])age  with  a  shaking  hand, 
^.rareella  read : 

''ExciTixo  Scenes  ix  the  House. —Meetixc  of 
THE  Labour  ^Iembers.  —  A  committee  of  the  Labour 
representatives  in  Parliament  met  this  afternoon  at 
2  o-(dock  for  the  pnrpose  of  electing  a  chairman,  a:.d 
appointing  whips  to   the  party,  thus  constituting  a 
separate  parliamentary  group,     ^fueli  interest  was  felt 
m  tlie  proceedings,  which  it  was  univorsallv  su].i)Osed 
would  lead  to  the  a))pointment  of  ?.Ir.  H.  s"!  "Wharton 
the  member    for  AVest   Erookshire,  as  chairman  an.l 
leader  of  the  Labour  party.     The  exdit^u.crt  of  the 
meeting  and  in  the  House  may  be  imagined  when  — 
after  a  short  but  very  cordial  and  effective  speech  from 
^iv.  P.enn,tt,  the  member  for  Xorth  Whinwiok,  in  sup- 
voi..  II.  — 2.'} 


l^Si 


n. 


354 


MARC  ELL  A. 


port  of  Mr.  Wluirtoivs  eandifhiturc    -Ifr.  Wilkins  the 
miner's  member   for  Derlingluini,   rose  and   made  a 
series  of  astonnding  charges  against  the  personal  lion- 
our  of  the  member  for  West  Jirookshire.     Put  briefly 
they  amount  to  this  :  that  during  the  recent  strike  at 
Damesley  the  su])port  of  thi;   Clarion  newspaper,  i,l 
whioli  Mr.  AVharton  is  owner  and  practically  editor 
was  honght   by  the  employers  in   return  for  certain' 
shares  lu  the  new  Syndicate;  that  the  money  for  these 
shares- which  is  put  as  high  as  20,000.'.  -had  already 
gone  nito  Mr.  Wharton's  ,)rivate  pocket;  and  that  the 
change  of  ])olicy  on  the  part  of  the  Clarion,  which  led 
to  the  collapse  of  the  strike,  was  thus  entirely  due  to 
what  the  Labour  members  can  only  regard  under  the 
circumstances  as  a  bribe  of  a  most  disgraceful  kind 
The  eft'.'(!t  i)roduced  has  been  enormous.     The  debate 
IS  still  proceeding,  and  reporters  have  been  excluded. 
But  I  hope  to  send  a  fuller  account  later." 
Marcella  dropped  the  paper  from  her  hand. 
"What  does  it  mean  ?  "  she  said  to  her  companion 
"Precisely  what  it  says,"  replied  Anthonv,  with  a 
nervous  imi)atience  he  could  not  repress.     ''  Now,"  he 
added,  as  his  lameness  forced  him  to  sit  down,  -will 
you  kindly  allow  me  some  conversation  with  you ?     It 
was  .you  — practically  — who  introduced  Louis  to  that 
man.     You  meant  well   to  Louis,  and   Mr.  Wharton 
has  been  your  friend.     Wo  therefore  feel  that  we  owe 
you   some   explanation.      Imu-   th.-it    i)aragraph  "  —  he 
pointed  to   the    p.-.p..,— -  is^  .substantiaily  —  L„uis's 
doing,  and  mine." 

"  Yovrs?^^  she  said  mechanically.     "  J?ut  Louis  has 
been  going  on  working  for  the  paper  — 
him."  * 


iici'Siiii  u'l 


MARIJELLA. 


^hi 


'■  \  know.  It  was  not  we  who  actually  discovered 
the  thing.  Hut  we  set  a  friend  to  work.  Louis  has 
had  his  suspicions  all  along.  And  at  last  — by  the 
merest  chanct-  —  we  got  the  facts." 

Then  he  told  the  story,  staring  at  her  the  while  with 
his  sparkling  eyes,  his  thin  invalid's  fingers  fidgeting 
with  his  hat.  If  there  was  in  truth  any  idea  in  his 
mind  that  the  relations  between  his  companion  and 
Harry  Wharton  were  more  than  those  of  friendship,  it 
did  not  avail  to  make  him  spare  her  in  the  least.  He 
was  absorbed  in  vindictive  feeling,  which  ai)plied  to 
her  also.  He  might  my  for  form's  sake  that  she  had 
meant  well ;  but  in  fact  he  regarded  her  at  this  mo- 
ment as  a  sort  of  odious  Canidia  whose  one  function 
had  been  to  lure  Louis  to  misfortune.  Cut  otf  him- 
self, by  half  a  score  of  peculiarities,  physical  and 
other,  from  love,  pleasure,  and  power,'  Anthony 
Craven's  whole  affections  and  ambitions  had  for  years 
centred  in  his  brother.  And  now  Louis  was  not  only 
violently  thrown  out  of  employment,  but  compromised 
by  the  connection  with  the  Clarion;  was,  moreover, 
saddled  with  a  wife  —  and  in  debt. 

So  that  his  explanation  was  given  with  all  the  edge 
he  could  put  upon  it.  Let  her  stop  him,  if  she  pleased ! 
—  but  she  did  not  stop  him. 

The  facts  were  these  : 

Louis  had,  indeed,  been  persuaded  by  ^Farcella,  for 
the  sake  of  his  wife  and  bread  and  butter,  to  go  (,n 
working  for  the  Clarion,  as  a  reviewer.  But  his  mind 
was  all  the  time  feverishly  occupied  witli  the  apostasy 
of  the  paper  and  its  causes.     Eememberimr  Wliartr.n's 


t      1 


;s;i 


yings  and  letters  tliroughout  tlie  struo-.-Ic.  h 


;ie  u' 


356 


MARC  ELLA. 


loss  and  less  able  to  oxplain  the  inoi.Iont  bv  the  roasons 
niiarton  bad  liimsflC  supplied,  an.l  more  aiul  more 
convineed  that  there  was  some  mystery  behind. 

He  and  Anthony  talked  th(>  matter  over  perpetually 
One  evenin.o:  Anthony  bron.i,^ht  home  from  a  meeting- 
oi  the  Venturists  thatGeor-e  Denny,  the  son  of  one  of 
the  principal  employers  in  the  Dameslev  trade,  whose 
name  lie  had  mentioned  onee  belon'  in  Ma  reel  la's  ears 
Denny  was  by  this  time  tlu.  candidate  for  a  Labour 
oonstitueney,  an  ardent  Venturist,  and  the  lau-hin<r 
stock  of  his  capitalist  family,  with  whom,  however  he 
was  still  on  more  or   less   affectionate   terms      His 
lather  thought  him  an  incorrio-ible  fool,  and  his  moth.u- 
wailed  over  him  to  her  friends.     But  they  were  still 
glad  to  see  him   whenever  he  would  condescend  to 
visit  them  ;  and  all  friction  on  money  matters  was 
avoided  by  the  fact  that  J)enny  had  for  long  refused 
to  take  any  pecuniary  belp  from  his  father,  and  was 
nevertheless  supporting  himself  tolerably  by  lecturin- 
and  literature.  * 

Denny  was  admitted  into  the  brothers'  debate,  and 
had  indeed  puzzled  himself  a  good  deal  over  the  matter 
already.     He  had  taken  a  lively  interest  in  the  strike 
and  the  articles  in  the  Clwion  which  led  to  its  collapse 
liad  seemed  to  him  both  inexplicable  and  enra-ing 

After  his  talk  with  the  Cravens,  he  went  away 
determined  to  dine  at  home  on  the  earliest  possible 
opportunity.  He  announced  himself  accordingly  in 
Hertford  Street,  was  received  with  open  arms,  and 
then  deliuerately  set  himself,  at  dinner  and  afterwards 
to  bait  his  father  on  social  and  political  (piestions' 
which,  as  a  rule,  were  avoided  between  them. 


MARC  ELLA. 


357 


Dour 


and 


Old  Denny  ftdl  into  the  trap,  lost  liis  temper  and 
self-eontrol  eompletely,  and  at  a  mention  of  Harry 
Wharton  — skiliully  introduced  at  the  precisely  righ"t 
moment  — as  an  authority  on  some  matter  connected 
with  the  current  L.abour  programme,  he  threw  himself 
buck  in  Ids  cliair  with  an  angry  laugh. 

"Wharton?    Whartoai     You  quote  tliat  fellow  to 


me 


')'■> 


'•  Why  shouldn't  I  ?  "  said  the  son,  quietly. 

"Because,  my  good  sir,  — he's  a  /-o^/z^e,  —  that's  all! 
—  a  common  rogue,  from  my  point  of  view  even  — 
still  more  from  yours." 

"  I  know  that  any  vile  tale  you  can  believe  about 
a  Labour  leader  you  do,  father,"  said  George  Denny, 
with  dignity. 

Whereupon  the  older  man  thrust  his  hand  into  his 
^'oat-pocket,  and  drawing  out  a  small  leather  case,  in 
which  he  was  ai)t  to  carry  important  papers  about 
with  him,  extracttM  from  it  a  list  containing  names 
anil  figures,  and  held  it  with  a  somewhat  tremulous 
hand  under  his  son's  eyes. 

••Head  it,  sir!  and  hold  your  tongue!  Last  week 
my  friends  and  I  houuM  that  man  — and  his  precious 
paper  —  for  a  trifle  of  20,0U()/.  or  thereabouts.  It  paid 
us  to  do  it,  and  we  did  it.  I  dare  say  you  will  think 
the  proceeding  questionable.  In  my*^eyes  it  was  per- 
fectly legitimate,  n  piece  of  bonne  guerre.  The  man 
was  ruining  a  whole  industry.  Some  of  us  had  taken 
his  measure,  had  found  out  too  —  by  good  luck  \  —  that 
he  was  in  sore  straits  for  money  —  mortgages  on  the 
paper,  gambling  debts,  and  a  host  of  otlier  things  — 
scovered  a  shroud  man  Uj  pia\  him 


dis 


?    ;i 
I 


,  ana  m^uie  our 


'  ! 


358 


MARCELLA. 


bid !  He  rose  to  it  like  a  giulgoou  -  i^ave  us  no 
trouble  whatever.  I  need  nut  .say,  of  course  "-- 1,,. 
added,  looking  up  at  his  soii-nhat  1  have  shown 
you  that  i)a])er  in  the  ven/  strictest  cotifidence.  But  it 
seemed  to  me  it  was  my  duty  as  a  father  to  warn  you 
of  the  nature  of  some  of  your  associates  ! " 

"I  understand,"  said  George  Denny,'  as,  after  a 
careful  study  of  the  paper  -  which  contained,  for  the 
lielp  of  the  writer's  memory,  a  list  of  the  sums  paid 
and  founders'  shares  allotted  to  the  various  "  pro- 
moters -  of  the  new  Syndicate -he  restored  it  to  its 
owner.  -Well,  1,  father,  have  this  to  say  in  return 
I  came  here  to-night  in  the  hope  of  getting  from  you 
this  very  information,  and  in  the  public  interest  I  hold 
myself  not  only  free  but  hound  to  make  public  use  of 
It,  at  the  earliest  possible  oj^portunity  !  " 

The   family   scene   may    be   imagined.      But   both 
tiireats  and  blandishments  were  entirely  lost  upon  the 
son.     There  was  in  him  an  idealist  (obstinacy  which 
listened  to  nothing  but  the  cry  of  a  cause,  and  he  de- 
elared  tluit  nothing  would  or  should  prevent  him  from 
carrying  tlie  story  of  the  bribe  direct  to  Neheiiiiah 
AVilkins,  Wharton's  chief  rival  in  the  House,  and  so 
saving  the  country  and  the  Labour  party  from  the 
disaster  and  disgrace  of  Wharton's  leadersiiip.     There 
was  no  time  to  lose,  the  party  meeting  in  the  House 
was  only  two  days  oft". 

At  the  end  of  a  long  struggle,  which  exhausted 
overybody  concerned,  and  was  carried  on  to  a  late 
hour  of  the  night,  Denny  pc^re,  influenced  by  a  desire 
to  avoid  worse  things  -conscious,  too.  of  the  abundant 
.'Vidence  he  possessed  of  Wiiarton's  acceptance   and 


^lARCELLA. 


3.09 


privato  use  of   the  money  —  ;u,-l,   proliably,  whfiii  it, 
came  to  the  point,  not  unwilling,  — under  compulsion  ! 
—to  tnnil)l(!  Mich  a  hero  from  his  pedestal,  actually 
wrote,  umler  his  son's  advice,  a  letter  to  Wilkins.     It 
was  coudied  in  th(>  most  cautious  language,  and  pro- 
fessed to  be  writt«>n  in  the  interests  oi  Wharton  him- 
self, to  put  an  end  *' to  (certain  ugly  and  unfounded 
rumours  that  have  been  brought  to  my  knowledge." 
The  negotiation  itself  was  described  in  the  driest  busi- 
ness  terms.     "Mr.   Wharton,  upon  cause  shown,  eo,i- 
sented  to  take  part  in  the  founding  of  the  Syndicate, 
and   in    return    for   his   assistance,  was   allotted   ten' 
i'ounders'  shares  in  the  new  company.     The  transac- 
tion differed  in  nothing  from  those  of  ordinary  busi- 
ness"—a  last  sentence  slily  added  by  the  Socialist 
son,  and  innocently  accepted  by  one  of  the  shrewdest 
of  men. 

After  which  Master  George  Denny  scarcely  slept, 
and  by  nine  o'clock  next  morning  was  in  a  hansom  on 
his  way  to  Wilkins's  lodgings  in  Westminster.  The 
glee  of  that  black-bearded  patriot  hardly  needs  descrip- 
tion. He  flung  himself  on  the  letter  with  a  delight 
and  relief  so  exuberant  that  George  Denny  went 
off  to  another  more  phlegmatic  member  of  the  anti- 
Wharton  "  cave,"  with  entreaties  that  an  eye  should 
be  kei)t  on  the  nunnber  for  Derlingham,  lest  he 
should  do  or  disclose  anything  before  the  dramatic; 
moment. 

Then  he  himself  spent  the  next  forty-eight  hours  in 
ingenious  efforts  to  put  together  certain  additional  in- 
formation as  to  tl 


le  e 


urrent  value  of  founders'  shares  in 
the  new  company,  the  nature  and  amount  of  Whart 


'  i 


on  s 


"Hi 


360 


MAliCKLLA. 


able  in  the  cn.l  to  discover  quite  enough  to  furnisJ.  lorth 
a  supplementary  statement.  8o  th.tt,  when  th.'  lOtli 
arrived,  tl  o  day  rose  upon  a  group  of  men  br.>al  lessly 
awaiting  a  pi;  y  witliin  a  phty-witli  all  their  i>arts 
rehearsed,  and  the  prompter  ready. 

Sucli  ii.  substance,  was  Anthony's  story.  So  carried 
away  was  he  by  the  excitement  and  triumph  of  it,  that 
he  soon  ceased  to  notice-  what  its  effect  migiit  be  upon 
Ins  pale  and  q  lick-breathing  comiiauion. 

'^Aml  mm  wh;,t  has  happened?"  she  asked  him 
abruptly,  when  at  last  he  paused. 

"Why,  you  saw!"  he  said  in  astonishment,  pointing 
to  the  evening  paper  — "at  least  the  beginning  of  \t 
Louis  IS  at  the  House  now.    J  .xpect  him  everv  moment 
1  le  said  he  would  follow  me  here." 

Marcella  pressed  her  hands  upon  her  eyes  a  moment 
as  though  in  pain.  Anthony  looked  at  her  with  a  tardy 
pi-Kik  of  remorse. 

'^  lioar  Louis's  knock ! "  lie  said,  springing  up.    "May 
i  let  him  in?"     Ami,  without  waiting  for  reply   he 
hobbled  as  fast  as  his  crutch  would  carry  him  to 'the 
outer  door.     Louis  came  in.     Marcella  rose  mechani- 
cally.    He  paused  on  the  threshold,  his  short  sLdit 
trying  to  make  her  out  in  the  dusk.     Then  his  face 
softened  and  quivered.     He  walked  forward  quickly 
"  I  know  you  haye  something  to  forgive  us,"  he  said, 
and  that  this  will  distress  you.    But  we  could  not  give 
you  warning.    Everything  was  so  rapid,  and  the  public 
interests  involved  so  crushing." 

He  was  flushed  with  veng<!ance  and  victory,  but  as 


MAliCELLA. 


861 


lu!  iipproac^pfl  her  liis  look  Wiis  dopreoatinp  —  almost 
timid.  On  ,„•  night  befoiv,  Anthony  for  the  first 
turn*  had  <ore.stt'd  to  him  an  id  ,  about  her.  He 
did  not  boiiuvt"  it  — had  had  no  time  in  truth  to  think 
of  It  in  the  rush  of  i-vcnts.  iiul  now  he  saw  her,  the 
doubt  pulled  at  his  heart.  Had  he  indeed  stabbed 
tlie  hand  that  had  tried  to  help  him  ? 

Anlhony  tourhcd  him  imi):iUently  on  the  arm. 
'•  What  has  liappene.l,  Louis  ?  I  hav(^  shown  Miss 
Boyee  the  first  news.'' 

all  over,"  said  Louis,  briefly.     '<  The  meeting 
was  king  up  as  1  eame  away.     It  had  lasted  nearly 

five  irs.  There  was  a  tieree  light,  of  course,  between 
Whartun  and  VVilkins.  Then  Bennett  withdrew  his 
resolution,  refused  to  be  nominated  himself —nearly 
broke  down,  in  fact,  they  say ;  he  had  always  been 
attaehed  to  Wharton,  and  had  set  his  heart  upon  mak- 
uvA  liim  leader  — and  finally,  after  a  long  wrangle, 
MoUoy  was  appointed  chairman  of  the  party.'' 

"Good!"  cried  Antlumy,  not  able  to  suppress  the 
note  of  exultation. 
Louis  did  not  speak.     He  looked  at  Marcella. 
;'  Did  he  defend  himself  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  low,  sharp 
voice. 

Louis  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

'•  Oil,  yes.  He  spoke  —  but  it  did  him  no  goorl. 
Everybody  agreed  that  the  speecdi  was  curiously  j.,.- 
etfective.  One  would  have  expected  him  to  do  it  better. 
But  he  seemed  to  be  knocked  over.  He  said,  of  course, 
that  he  had  satisfied  himself,  and  given  i)roof  in  the 
])aper,  that  the  strike  could  not  be  maintained,  and 


that  beiii 


g  so  he  was  fr^-e  to  join  any  syndicate  he 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


tUMM 


Hi 

1 5.6 


Ui. 


3.2 

14.0 


1.4 


2.5 

12.2 

2.0 
1.8 


A     APPLIED  IIVMGE 


inc 


165 J   East   Main   Street 

Rochester,   New   York         14609       USA 

(716)   432  -  0300  -  Phone 

(716)   288  -  5989  -  Fax 


362 


MAliCKLLA. 


8i  'f 


pleased.  But  lio  sj.oke  amid  dead  silence,  and  therP 
was  a  general  groan  ulien  he  sat  down.  Oh,  it  w.s 
not  this  business  only  I  Wilkins  made  gi'cat  piny  in 
part  of  his  speech  with  the  Com])any  scandal  too.*^  It 
IS  a  comi)lete  smash  all  round.'" 

"Which  he  will  never  gvt  over"'"  said  Marcella 
quickly. 

"Xotwith  our  men.  What  he  may  do  elsewhere 
IS  another  matter.  Anthony  has  told  von  how  it  came 
out  ?" 

She  made  a  sign  of  assent.  She  was  sitting  erect 
and  cold,  her  hands  ronnd  ]wv  knees. 

'T.lid  not  mean  to  keej)  anything  from  von,"  he 
sanl  m  a  low  voice,  bending  to  her.  '<  I  know  ^^you 
admired  hiiu  —  that  he  had  given  you  caus(^  Jhit  — 
my  mind  has  been  on /r^— ever  since  I  came  back 
from  those  J^amesle^   scenes  I '' 

She  off=red  no  reply.  Silence  fell  npon  all  tliree 
for  a  minute  or  two;  and  in  the  twilight  each  could 
hardly  distinguisli  the  others.  Every  now  and  then 
the  passionate  tears  rose  in  Maicella's  eyes ;  her  heart 
contracted.  That  very  night  when  he 'spoke  to  her 
when  he  used  all  those  big  words  to  her  about  his 
future,  those  great  ends  for  which  he  had  claimed  Jier 
woman's  lielp  —  lie  had  these  things  in  his  mind. 

"  1  think,"  said  Louis  Craven  presently,  touching  her 
gently  on  the  arm  — he  had  tried  once 'in  vain  to  at- 
tract her  attention  _'•  I  t]iiid<  I  liear  some  one  askin- 
for  you  (mtside  on  the  landing— :\Irs.  Ilurd  seems  to 
be  bringing  them  in." 

As  he  spoke,  Anthony  suddenly  sprang  to  his  feet, 
and  the  outer  door  opened. 


MAllcm.lA. 


OtJS 


..! 


''  Louis  !  "  cried  Anthony,  "  it  is  he !  " 

"Are  yer  at  lioiiie,  )niss?"  said  Miiita  Hiinl.  i.iit- 
iiig  in  her  liead ;  "I  can  hardly  see,  it's  so  dark. 
Here's  a  gt-ntleman  wants  to  see  you."' 

As  she  spoke,  Wharton  ])assed  her,  and  stood  — 
arrested  — by  the  sit^lit  of  the  three  figures.  At  tlie 
same  moment  Mrs.  Hurd  lit  tlu^  gas  in  the  little 
l)assage.  The  light  streamed  upon  his  face,  and 
showed  him  the  identity  ol'  the  two  men  standing 
beside  iNfarcella. 

Never  did  Marcella  forget  that  ai)])arition  — the 
young  grace  and  power  of  th.,  figure  —  the  imh'tinable 
note  of  wreck,  of  catastrophe — the  Lucifer  brightness 
of  the  eyes  in  the  set  face.  Slie  moved  foi-ward.  An- 
thony stopped  her. 

"Good-night,  Miss  Boyce  ! '' 

She  shook  hands  unconsciously  with  him  and  with 
Louis.  Tlie  two  Cravens  turned  to  the  door.  Whar- 
ton advanced  into  the  room,  and  let  them  pass. 

"You  have  been  in  a  hurry  to  tell  your  story  !  "  he 
said,  as  Louis  walked  l)y  him. 

Contemptuous  hate  breathed  from  every  feature, 
but  he  was  perfectly  self-contrc.lled. 

"Ves  — "  said  ('raven,  calmly- -'•  Xow^  it  is  vour 
turn." 

The  door  was  no  sooner  shut  than  AVharton  strode 
forward  and  caught  her  hand. 

"They  have  told  you  everything  ?     Ah  I  —  " 

Tlis  eye  fell  upon  the  evening  paper.     Letting  her 

go,  he  felt  for  a  chair  and  dropi)ed  into  it.     Throwing 

himself   back,  his    hands   behir.d   his  head,  he  drew 

u  long  breath  and  his  eyes  closed.     For  the  first  time 


ih.ii^  I 


'   *'^| 

'^H 

|M:i 

nm 

364 


MAliVELLA. 


4 


ill  his  life  or  hers  she  saw  hiin  weak  and  spent  like 
other  men.  Even  his  nerve  had  been  worn  down 
by  the  excitement  of  these  five  fighting  liours.  The 
eyes  were  lined  and  hollow  —  the  brow  contracted; 
tlie  young  roundness  of  the  cheek  was  lost  in  the 
general  i)allor  and  patchiness  of  the  skin ;  the  lower 
l)art  of  the  face  seemed  to  have  sharpened  and  length- 
ened,—  and  over  the  whole  had  paosed  a  breath  of 
something  aging  and  withering  the  traces  of  which 
sent  a  shiver  througli  Mareella.  She  sat  down  near 
him,  still  in  her  nurse's  cloak,  one  trembling  hand 
upon  her  lap. 

''  Will  yoa  tell  me  what  made  you  do  this  ?  "  she 
asked,  not  being  able  to  think  of  anything  else  to  say. 

He  oi)ened  his  eyes  with  a  start. 

In  that  instant's  quiet  the  scene  he  had  jus^.  lived 
through  had  been  rushing  before  him  agnin  — the  long 
table  in  the  panelled  committee-room,  the  keen  angrv 
faces  gathered  about  it.  Bennett,  in  Ins  blue  tie  and 
shabby  black  coat,  the  clear  moist  eyes  vexed  and 
miserable — ^rolloy,  small  and  wiry,  business-like  in 
the  midst  of  confusion,  cool  in  the  midst  of  tumult  — 
aiid  Wilkins,  a  black,  hectoring  leviathan,  thundering 
on  the  table  as  he  flung  his  broad  Yorkshire  across  i(. 
or  mouthing  out  Denny's  lette-  the  midst  of  the 
sudden  elec-trical  silence  of  soi..  oliirty  amazed  and 
incredulous  hearers. 

"Spies,  yo  call  us?"  v.ith  a  finger  like  a  dart, 
threatening  the  enemy  —  "Aye;  an'  yo're  aboot  reet ! 
I  and  my  friends  —  we  have  been  trackin'  and  spyin' 
for  weeks  past.  We  knew  those  men,  those  starvin' 
women  and  bairns,  were  beiu'  sold,  but  we  couldn't 


MAltCELLA. 


366 


M 


prove  it.  Now  we've  come  at  tlie  how  and  tlie  why 
of  it!  And  AVf'U  make  it  harder  for  men  like  you 
to  sell  'em  CKjain  !  Yo  call  it  infamy?  —  well,  ice  call 
it  detection."' 

Then  rattling  on  the  inner  ear  came  the  phrases  of 
the  attack  which  followed  on  the  director  of  ''The 
People's  ]>anking  Association,"  the  injured  inuocent 
of  as  mean  a  job,  as  unsavoury  a  bit  of  vulturous 
finance,  as  had  croi)ped  into  publicity  for  many  a 
year  —  and  finally  the  last  dramatic  cry: 

"'Ikit  it's  noa  matter,  yo  say!  jMester  Wharton 
has  nobbut  played  his  i)arty  and  the  workin'  man  a 
dirty  trick  or  two  —  an'  yo  niun  have  a  gentleman. ! 
Xoa  —  the  workin'  man  isn't  fit  himself  to  speak  wi' 
his  own  enemies  i'  th'  gate  —  yo  muu  have  a  gentle- 
mini ! —  an'  Mester  AVharton,  he  says  he'll  tak'  the 
])ost,  an'  dea  his  best  for  yo  —  an',  remember,  ?/o  imin 
have  a  gentleman!  Soa  now — Yes!  or  No!  —  wull 
yo  ?  —  or  ivoanH  yo  V 

And  at  that,  the  precipitation  of  the  great  unwieldy 
form  half  across  the  table  towards  Wharton's  seat  — 
the  roar  of  the  speaker's  immediate  supporters  thrown 
up  against  the  uead  silence  of  the  rest! 

As  to  his  own  speech  —  he  thought  of  it  with  a  sore- 
ness, a  disgust  whi(di  penetrated  to  bones  and  marrow. 
He  had  been  too  desperately  taken  by  surprise  —  had 
lost  his  nerve  —  missed  the  right  tone  throughout. 
Cool  defiance,  free  self-justification,  might  have  carried 
him  through.     Instead  of  which  —  faugh ! 

AH  this  was  the  phantom-show  of  a  few  seconds' 
thoudit.  Pie  roused  himself  from  a  miserable  reaction 
of  mind  and  body  to  attend  to  jVIarcella's  question. 


ti  '  ■■ 


'■■'fi 


866 


MARC  EL  I., 


ii 


1:H 


"  Why  did  I  do  it '' "'  he  rej)e;itt'd  ;  "  why  —  "' 

He  broke  ott",  i)ressing  both  his  liaiids  upon  his 
brow.  Then  he  suddeidy  sat  up  and  pulled  himself 
together. 

"  Is  that  tea?"  he  said,  touching  the  tray.  "  Will 
you  give  n)3  some  ?  " 

Mareella  went  into  the  back  kitchen  and  called 
Minta.  While  the  boiling  water  was  brought  and 
the  tea  was  made,  Wharton  sat  forward  with  his  face 
on  his  hands  and  saw  nothing.  JNlarcella  whisj)ered 
a  word  in  INIinta's  ear  as  she  came  in.  The  woman 
p;iused,  looked  at  Wharton,  whom  she  had  not  recog- 
nised before  in  the  dark  —  grew  pale  —  and  Marcella 
saw  her  hands  shaking  as  she  set  the  tray  in  order. 
Wharton  knew  nothing  and  thought  nothing  of  Kurd's 
Avidow,  but  to  ^[arcella  the  juxtaposition  of  the  two 
tigures  brought  a  wave  of  complex  emotion. 

Wharton  forced  himself  to  eat  and  drink,  hardly 
speaking  the  while.  Then,  when  the  tremor  of  sheer 
exhaustion  had  to  sonu^  extent  abated,  he  suddenh 
realised  who  this  was  that  was  sitting  opposite  to  him 
ministering  to  him. 

She  felt  his  hand  — his  quick  powerful  hand  — on 
hers. 

"  To  you  I  owe  the  whole  truth  —  let  me  tell  it !  " 
She  drew  herself  away  instinctively  —but  so  softlv 
that  he  did  not  realise  it.  He  threw  himself  back 
once  more  in  the  chair  beside  her  —  one  knee  over  the 
other,  the  curly  head  so  nuich  younger  to-night  than 
the  face  beneath  it  supported  on  his  arms,  his  e\e^.^ 
closed  again  for  rest  — and  plunged  into  the  story  of 
the  Clarion. 


uer. 


MAHCELLA. 


3H' 


"Will 


It  Nva.s  ;i(liiiii;il)l_)  told.  H(!  had  ])rol)ul)ly  so  re- 
hearsed it  to  himself  several  times  already.  He 
deseribed  his  action  as  tlu^  result  of  a  double  influence 
workin*,'  upon  him  — the  influence  of  his  own  del)ts 
and  necessities,  and  the  influence  of  his  growing,' 
conviction  that  the  maintenance  of  the  strike  had 
become  a  blunder,  even  a  misfortune  for  the  people 
themselves. 

"Then  — just  as  I  was  at  my  wit's  end,  conscious 
besides  that  the  paper  was  on  a  wrong  line,  and  must 
somehow  l)e  got  out  of  it  — came  the  overtures  from 
the  Symlicate.  I  knew  perfectly  well  J  ought  to  have 
refused  them —  of  courae  my  whole  career  was  risked 
by  listening  to  them.  But  at  the  same  time  they  gave 
me  assurances  that  the  workpeople  would  ultimately 
gain  — they  proved  to  me  that  I  was  helping  to  extin- 
guish the  trade.  As  to  the-  money — when  a  great 
company  has  to  be  launched,  the  people  who  helj)  it 
iuto  being  get  jmid  for  it  — it  is  invariable  — it  hap- 
pens every  day.  I  like  the  system  no  more  than  yon 
may  do  — or  Wilkins.  Hut  consider.  I  was  in  such 
straits  that  bankruptcy  lay  between  me  and  my  politi- 
cal future.  3Ioreover— I  had  lost  nerve,  sleep,  bal- 
ance. I  was  scarcely  master  of  myself  when  Pearson 
first  broached  the  matter  to  me  — "' 

••  Pearson  ! "'  (nied  IMareella.  involuntarily.  She  re- 
called the  figure  of  the  solicitor;  had  h^ard  his  name 
from  Frank  Leven.  She  i-enuMuljered  Wharton's  im- 
patient words —  '-There  is  a  tiresome  man  wants  to 
speak  to  nu>  on  business  —  " 

It  was  //<e// .' -  -  that  evening  I     Sumething  sick.-n..,! 

her. 


i(  - 


^  V. 


368 


MARCELLA. 


at 


Wharton  raised  himself  in  his  d 
her  attentively  with  his  younj 


lair  an  1  looked  ;it 


aggard 
vision 


eyes, 
of  tl 


Intl 


lie 


le  purest 


faint  lamplight  she  was  a  pale 

and  noblest  beauty,  lint  the  lofty  sadness  of  her 
face  tilled  him  with  a  kind  of  terror.  Desire  — im- 
potent pain  — vioh'nt  resolve,  swept  across  him.  Ibj 
had  come  to  her,  straight  from  tl 


as  to  the  last  bulwark  left  1 


le  scene  of  his  ruin. 


lim  ngainst  a  worhl  bent 


on   his   destruction,   and    bare    lieuceforward   of  all 
delights. 

"Well,  what  have  you  to  say  to  mo?"  he  sriid, 
suddenly,  in  a  low  changed  voice  — "as  1  speak— as 
I  look  at  you  —  I  sea  in  your  face  that  you  distrust  — 
tliatyou  have  judged  me;  those  two  men,  I  supi)ose. 
have  done  their  work!  Yet  from  you  — yo^f  of  ;dl 
people  — I  might  look  not  only  for  justice  — but— I 
will  dare  say  it —  for  kindnc^ss  !  " 

She  trembled.     She  understood  that  he  appealed  to 
the  days  at  Mellor,  and  her  lips  quivered. 

"No,"  she  exclaimed,  almost  timidly  — "I  try  to 
think  the  best.     I  see  the  pressure  was  great." 

"And  consider,  please,"  he  said  proudly,  "what  the 
reasons  were  for  that  pressure." 

She  looked  at  him  interrogatively  —  a  sudden  soft- 
ness in  liei-  eyes.  If  at  that  moment  he  had  confessed 
himself  fully,  if  he  had  thrown  himself  upon  her  in 
the  frank  truth  of  his  mixed  character  — and  he  could 
have  done  it,  with  a  Rousseau-like  completeness  — it 
is  difficult  to  say  what  the  result  of  this  scene  miglit 
have  been.  In  the  midst  of  shock  and  repulsion,  she 
was  filled  with  i)ity ;  and  there  were  moments  when 
she  was  more  drawn  to  his  defeat  and  undoing,  then 
she  had  ever  been  to  his  success. 


MARC  ELL  A. 


369 


looked  at 
.  In  tlie 
le  purest 
s  of  Iter 
ire —  iiii- 
lim.  lie 
liis  ruin. 
)rl(l  bent 
d   of   all 

lie  said, 
eak  —  as 
strust  — 
■suppose. 
)n  of  all 
-but—  I 

)ealed  to 

I  try  to 

\^liat  the 

en  soft- 
)nfessed 
I  her  in 
le  could 
ess  —  it 
3  miq-lit 
ion,  she 
s  when 
ig,  then 


Yet  how  question  him  ?  To  do  so,  would  be  to  as- 
sume a  right,  vhieh  in  turn  would  imply  his  rights. 
She  thought  of  that  mention  of  '•  gambling  debts,"  then 
of  his  luxurious  habits,  and  extravagant  friends.  But 
she  was  silent.  Only,  as  she  sat  there  opposite  to 
him,  on(!  slim  hand  propping  the  brow,  her  look  in- 
vited him. 

He  thought  he  saw  his  advantage. 

"You  must  remember,"  he  said,  with  the  same  self- 
assertive  bearing,  "  that  I  have  never  been  a  rich  man, 
that  my  mother  spent  my  father's  savings  on  a  score 
of  public  objects,  that  she  and  I  started  a  number  of 
experiments  on  the  estate,  that  my  expenses  as  a 
member  of  Parliament  are  very  large,  and  that  I 
spent  thousands  on  building  up  the  Clarion.  I  have 
been  ruined  by  the  Clarion,  by  the  cause  the  Clario7i 
supported.  I  got  no  help  from  my  party  —  where  was 
it  to  come  from  ?  They  are  all  poor  men.  I  had  to 
do  everything  myself,  and  the  struggle  has  been  more 
than  flesh  and  blood  could  bear !  This  year,  often,  I 
have  not  known  how  to  move,  to  breathe,  for  anxieties 
of  every  sort.  Then  came  the  crisis  — my  work,  my 
usefulness,  my  career,  all  threatened.  The  men  who 
hated  me  saw  their  opportunity.  I  was  a  fool  and 
gave  it  them.  And  my  enemies  have  used  it  —  to  the 
bitter  end ! " 

Tone  and  gesture  were  equally  insistent  hi.d  strong. 
What  he  was  saying  to  himself  was  that,  w4th  a 
woman  of  Marcella's  type,  one  must  '-bear  it  out." 
This  moment  of  wreck  was  also  with  him  the  first 
nioment  of  all-absorbing  and  desperate  desire.  To 
win  her  — to  wrest  her  from  the  Cravens'  influence  — 
VOL.  II.  — 24 


H 


m\ 


i\y 


370 


MAliCKLLA. 


!ta 


that  liiiil  hccn  tlie  cry  in  his  inind  throughout  his 
(lazed  drive  from  th(^  House  of  Commons.  Her  hand 
in  his  — her  strength,  her  beauty,  the  romantic  repu- 
tation that  luid  begun  to  jittach  to  her,  at  liis  command 
—  and  he  wouUl  liave  taken  the  first  step  to  recovery, 
he  wouhl  see  his  way  to  right  himself. 

Ah!  Imt  he  had  missed  his  chance!  Somehow, 
every  word  he  had  been  saying  rang  false  to  hei-.  She 
could  have  thrown  herself  as  a  saving  i-"gel  on  the 
side  of  weakness  and  disaster  which  ha,d  .  poken  its 
proper  language,  and  with  a  reckless  and  contidiu"- 
truth  had  appealed  to  the  largeness  of  a  woman's 
heart.  lUit  this  patriot  —  ruined  .so  nobly  —  for  such 
disinterested  purjioses  —  left  her  cold  !  She  began  to 
think  even  — hating  herself  — of  the  thousands  he 
was  sui)posed  to  have  made  in  the  gambling  over  that 
wretched  company  —  no  doubt  for  the  ''  cause  "  too  ! 

But  before  she  could  say  a  word   he  was  kneeling 
beside  her. 

"Marcella!  give  me  my  answer  !  —  I  am  in  trouble 
and  defeat  —  be  a  woman,  and  come  to  me  !  " 
Ho  had  her  liands.  She  tried  to  recover  them. 
"No!"  she  said,  with  passionate  energy,  ''that  is 
impossible.  1  had  written  to  you  before  you  came, 
before  I  had  heard  a  word  of  this.  Please,  j^lease  let 
me  go  ! " 

''Not  till  you  explain  !  '*  —  he  said,  still  holding  her, 
and  roused  to  a  white  heat  of  emotion — ^'ivJif/is  it 
impossible  ?  You  said  to  me  once,  with  all  your  heart, 
that  you  thanked  me,  that  I  had  taught  you,  helped 
you.  You  cannot  ignore  the  bond  between  us  !  And 
you  are  free.     I   have  a  right  to  say  to  you  —  you 


MAIiCKLLA. 


371 


tliirst  to  save,  to  do  Rood  — comn  and  save  a  man  that 
cries  to  you  I  —  he  confesses  to  yon,  freely  enough, 
that  ho  has  made  a  hideous  mistake  — help  him  to 
redeem  it  I "' 

She  rose  suddenly  with  all  her  strength,  freeing 
horself  from  liim,  so  that  he  rose  too,  and  stood  glow- 
ering  and  pale. 

"When  I  said  that  to  you,"  she  cried,  ''  I  was  betray- 
ing"--her  voice  failed  her  an  instant  — "we  were 
both  false  — to  the  obligation  that  should  have  held 
us  — restrained  us.  Xo!  no!  I  will  never  be  your 
wife!  We  should  hurt  each  other -poison  each 
other ! " 

Her  eyes  shone  with  wild  tears.  As  he  stood  there 
before  her  she  was  seized  with  a  piteous  sense  of  con- 
trast—of the  irreparable  — of  what  might  have  been. 

''  AVhat  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked  her,  roughly. 

She  was  silent. 

His  passion  rose. 

"Do  you  remember,"  he  said,  approaching  her 
again,  "that  you  have  given  me  cause  to  hop.- '.'  [t  is 
those  two  fanatics  that  have  changed  you  —  possessed 
your  mind." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  pale  dignity. 

"My  letters  must  have  warned  you,"  she  said  sim- 
ply.    '•  If  you  had  come  to-morrow  —  in  prosperity 

you  would  have  got  the  same  answer,  at  once.  To-day 
—  now  — 1  have  b  i  i  weak  moments,  because  — because 
f  did  not  know  how  to  add  pain  to  pain.  But  they 
are  gone— I  see  my  way!  /  do  not  love  you  —  thk 
IS  the  simple,  the  whole  truth  —  I  could  not  follow 


1 


1  '>fi 


vou 


!  " 


372 


MAUrELT.i, 


Ifc  stared  fit  licr  ;in  instant  in  a  UithM-  silfuoo. 

"T  have  bfcii  warned,"  —  h«  said  slowly,  hut  in 
truth  losin,!jf  control  of  hinisidf,  "not  only  hy  you  — 
and  I  suppose   I  understimd !     You   repent  last  yoar. 


Your  own  letter  said  as  much.     You 


mean  to  reoover 


the  ground  —  the  place  you  lost.  Ah,  well!  —  most 
natural !  —  most  iitting!  When  the  time  oonu^s  —  and 
my  bones  are  less  sore — I  su[)pose  T  shall  have  my 
second  eon-jfratulations  ready!     Meanwhile  —  " 

She  gave  a  low  cry  and  burst  suddeidy  into  a  pas- 
sion of  weeping,  turning  her  laee  from  him.  Hut 
when  in  pale  sudden  shanu;  he  tried  to  excuse  him- 
self—  to  appease  lier^ — she  nu)ved  away,  with  a 
gesture  that  overawed  him. 

^^YoH  have  not  confessed  yourself"  —  she  said, 
and  his  look  wavered  under  the  signilieanee  of  hers 
—  "but  you  drive  me  to  it.  Yes,  I  repent!'^  —  her 
breast  heaved,  she  caught  her  breath.  '•  I  have  been 
trying  to  (dieat  myself  these  last  few  Aveeks  —  to  run 
away  from  grief  —  and  the  other  night  when  you 
asked  nu^ — I  would  h;ive  given  all  I  have  and  am  to 
feel  like  any  happy  girl,  who  says  'Yes'  to  her 
lover.  1  tried  to  fetd  so.  But  even  then,  though  I 
was  miserable  and  reckless,  I  knew  in  my  heart — it 
was  impossible  !  Tf  you  suppose  —  if  you  like  to  .sup- 
pose—  that  1  —  I  have  hopes  or  plans  —  as  mean  as 
they  would  be  silly  —  yon  must  —  of  course.  But  I 
have  given  no  one  any  rigJit  to  think  so  or  say  so. 
Mr.  Wharton  —  " 

Gathering  all  her  self-control,  she  i)ut  out  her  white 
hand  to  him.  "Please  —  ])lease  say  good-bye  to  me. 
It    has    been    hideous    vanity  —  and    mistake — and 


t 


MAUCKLLA. 


372 


loiiofh  I 


wivlcli.'.liicss  — our  l<n<.u-iii<r  v:wh  otlior  —  from  tlio 
iH^nnnin-  I  ,n,i  ^uHvln]  for  all  you  did.  I  shall 
idwiiys  he  ^n-at(.fnl.  I  l,„,,o_oh:  I  hop.. —  that  — 
that  you  will  ii,„l  a  way  through  this  troui,l(..  1  don't 
want  to  make  it  worse  by  a  word.  If  I  could  do  any- 
thm-!  IJnt  I  can't,  ^'oi.  must  phNise  go.  It  is  late. 
I  wish  to  call  my  friend,  Mrs.  Iliird." 

Their  eyes  met  — hers  full  of  a  certain  stern  vet 
(|tuvcring  power,  his  strained  and  bloodshot,  in  his 
lined  young  face. 

Then,  with  a  violent  gesture  — as  though  he  swept 
her  out  of  his  path -he  caught  up  his  hat,  went  to 
the  door,  and  was  gone. 

She  fell  on  her  (dnir  almost  fainting,  and  sat  there 
for  long  in  the  sunnner  dark,  covering  her  face.  iJut 
it  was  not  his  voice  that  haunted  her  ears. 

''You  hare  done  vw  ,rrou,,  —  I  pr<u,  a,,,]  ^,nn  may 
not  do  7/ours('Ifa  greater  icrong  in  the  future!" 

Again  and  again,  amid  the  whirl'  of  memory,  she 
pressed  the  sad  renuMubered  words  ui)on  the  inward 
wound  and  fever- tasting,  cherishing  the  smart  of 
them.  And  as  her  trance  of  exhaustion  and  despair 
gradually  left  lier,  it  was  as  though  she  crept  close  to 
some  dim  beloved  form  in  A,l,„m  her  heart  knew 
henceforward  the  secret  and  sole  companion  of  its 
inmost  life. 


ii 


',,      : :  > 


u 


BOOK    IV. 


'"  Voii  and  I  — 
Why  care  by  what  meaiulers  we  are  here 
1'  the  centre  of  the  labyrinth  ''    Men  have  died 
Tryino- 1(.  find  t!      ,.hice  which  we  have  found." 


\l. 


'  i 


CHAPTER   I. 


An  I  Jiow  purely,  cleauly  beautiful  was  the  autumn 
sunrise!  After  her  long  hardening  U)  the  stale 
noisorneness  of  London  streets,  the  taint  of  London 
air,  ^larcella  hung  out  of  her  window  at  Mellor  in  a 
thirsty  delight,  drinking  in  the  scent  of  dew  and  earth 
and  trees,  watching  the  ways  of  the  birfls,  pouring 
forth  a  soul  of  yearning  and  of  memory  into  the  pearly 
silence  of  the  morning. 

High  up  on  the  distant  hill  to  the  left,  beyond  the 
avenue,  the  pale  apricots  and  golds  of  the  newly- 
shorn  stubbles  caught  the  mounting  liglit.  The 
Ijeeches  of  the  avenue  were  turning  fast,  and  the 
chestnuts  girdling  the  church  on  her  right  hand  were 
already  thin  enough  to  let  the  tower  show  through. 
That  was  tlie  bell  —  the  old  bell  given  to  the  church  by 
Hampden's  friend,  John  Boyce  —  striking  liali-past 
five;  and  close  upon  it  came  the  call  of  a  pheasant  in 
the  avenue.  There  he  was,  fine  fellow,  with  his  silly, 
mincing  run,  redeemed  all  at  once  by  the  sudden  whirr 
of  towering  flight. 

To-day  Mary  Harden  and  the  Eector  would  be  at 
work  in  the  church,  and  to-morrow  was  to  be  the 
Harvest  Festival.  Was  it  two  years?  —  or  in  an  hour 
or  two  would  she  be  going  with  her  basket  from  the 
Cedar  Garden,  to  find  that  figure  in  the  brown  shoot- 
ing-coat standing  with  the  Harden^  uu  the  altar  steps? 

377 


•i  [t 


:\ 


U,i: 


nil 

in 


it 


378 


MARC  ELL  A. 


Alas!— iiliis!  — hor  head  droppod  on  her  liaiuls  as 
she  knelt  by  the  open  window.  }[ow  changed  were 
all  the  aspects  of  the  world!  Three  Aveeks  befons  ilic 
bell  ill  that  little  chnreh  had  tolled  lor  one  who,  in 
the  best  wa.y  and  t(>mper  of  his  own  generation,  had 
been  God's  servant  and  man's  fritMid  — who  had  been 
iMarcella's  friend  —and  had  even,  in  his  last  days,  on 
a  Avord  from  Edward  Halliii,  s(>nt  her  an  old  man's 
kiiully  farewell. 

"Tell  her,"  Lord  ]\[axw(dl  had  written  with  his  own 
hand  to  Hallin,  "she  has  taken  np  a  noble  work,  and 
will  make,  I  pray  (lod,  a  noble  woman.  She  had,  I 
think,  a  kindly  liking  for  an  old  man,  and  she  will  not 
disdain  his  blessinir." 

He  had  died  at  Geneva,  Aldons  and  Miss  Raeburn 
Avith  him.  For  instead  of  coming  home  in  August,  he 
had  grown  suddenly  Avorse,  and  Aldous  had  gone  out 
to  him.  They  had  brought  him  to  the  Court  for 
burial,  and  the  new  Lord  MaxAvell,  leaving  his  aunt 
at  the  Court,  had  almost  immediately  returned  to 
toAvn,— because  of  EdAvard  Hallin's  state  of  health. 

Marcella  had  seen  much  of  Hallin  since  he  and  his 
sister  had  come  back  to  London  in  the  middle  of 
August.  Hallin's  apparent  improvement  had  faded 
Avithin  a  Aveek  or  two  of  his  return  to  his  rooms; 
Aldous  Avas  at  Geneva;  Miss  Hallin  Avas  in  a  panic  oi' 
alarm;  and  .Marcella  found  herself  both  nurse  and 
friend.  Day  after  day  she  Avould  go  in  after  her  nursing 
rounds,  share  their  evening  meal,  and  either  Avrite  for 
Hallin,  or  lielp  the  sister —by  the  slight  extra  weight 
of  her  professional  voice— to  keej)  him  from  writing 
and  thinkino-. 


MAIiCELLA. 


379 


liiiiuls  ;is 
ig(!(l  werci 
ofoiv,  bllC 
13  who,  ill 
itioii,  had 

had  been 
b  (lays,  oil 
)l(l  man's 

1  his  own 
vork,  and 
lie  had,  I 
e  will  not 

Kaeburn 
ugust,  he 
gone  ont 
Jourt    for 
his  aunt 
Lirned    to 
health. 
i  and  his 
liddle  of 
Eld  faded 
>  rooms; 
panic  oi' 
irse  and 
L"  imrsint'- 
ivrite  f(jr 
a  weight 
writing 


He  would  not  hiinsclf  admit  that  he  was  ill  at  all. 
and  his  whole  energi(!s  at  the  time  were  devoted  to  the 
preparation  of  a  series  of  three  addresses  on  the  siil)- 
ject  of  Land  Reform,  which  were  to  be  delivered  in 
October  to  the  delegates  of  a  large  number  of  working- 
men's  clubs  from  all  parts  of  London.  So  strong  was 
Hallin's  position  among  working-men  reformers,  and 
so  beloved  had  beeji  his  personality,  that  as  soon  as 
his  position  towards  the  new  land  nationalising  move- 
ment, now  gathering  formidable  strength  among  the 
London  working  men,  had  come  to  be  widely  under- 
stood, a  combined  challenge  had  been  sent  him  bv 
some  half-dozen  of  tl.te  leading  Socialist  and  Radical 
dubs,  asking  him  to  give  three  weekly  addresses  in 
October  to  a  congress  of  London  delegates,  time  to  be 
allowed  after  tlie  lecture  for  questions  and  debate. 

Hallin  had  accepted  the  invitation  with  eagerness, 
and  was  throwing  an  intensity  of  labour  into  the 
writing  of  his  three  lectures  which  often  seemed  to 
las  poor  sister  to  be  not  only  utterly  beyond  his 
physical  strength,  but  to  carry  with  it  a  note  as  of  a 
last  effort,  a  farewell  message,  such  as  her  devoted 
affection  could  ill  endure.  For  all  the  time  he  was 
struggling  with  cardiac  weakness  and  brain  irritability 
which  would  have  overwhelmed  any  one  less  accus- 
tumed  to  make  his  account  with  illness,  or  to  balance 
against  feebleness  of  body  a  marvellous  discipline  of 
soul. 

Lord  Maxwell  was  still  alive,  and  Hallin,  in  the 
midst  of  his  work,  was  looking  anxiously  for  the  dailv 
reports  from  Aldous,  living  in  his  friend's  life  almost 
as  much  as  in  his  own  —  handing  on  the  reports,  too, 


Mi 


380 


MAIWKLLA. 


(lay  by  day  to  Marcella,  with  a  niaiiiior  wliicli  had 
somehow  Hlii)i)ed  into  expressing'  a  new  and  sure  con- 


liden.^e    in    her    symj)athy  —  when   slie 


one    eve 


ning 


found  Minta  llurd  watcliing  I'or  her  at  tlie  door  witl 
a  teleguu),  [xo\\\  litn-  uujther:  "  Y'our  father  sudihnily 
worse,  riease  come  at  onee."  She  arrived  at  MeUor 
hite  that  same  night. 

On  the  same  day  Lord  :Maxwell  ^died.  Less  than  a 
week  hiter  he  was  buried  in  the  littk-  Gairsh^y  church. 
]\rr.  Boyce  was  then  ahirmingly  ill,  and  Marcella  sat 
in  his  darkened  room  or  hi  her  own  all  day,  thinking 
from  time  to  time  of  what  was  passing  tl'ree  miles 
away  —  of  the  great  house  in  its  mourning  —  of  the 
figures  round  the  grave.  Hallin,  of  course,  would  be 
tliere.  It  was  a  dripping  September  day,  and  she 
passed  easily  from  moments  of  passionate  yearning 
and  clairvoyance  to  worry  herself  about  the  damp  and 
the  fatigue  that  Hallin  must  be  facing. 

Since  then  she  had  heard  occasionally  from  Miss 
Hallin.  Everything  was  much  as  it  had  been,  appar- 
ently. Edward  was  still  hard  at  work,  still  ill,  still 
serene.  "  Aldous  "  —  Miss  Hallin  could  not  yet  recon- 
cile herself  to  the  new  name  —  was  alone  in  the  Curzou 
Street  house,  much  occupied  and  harassed  apparently 
by  the  legal  business  of  the  succession,  by  the  election 
presently  to  be  held  in  his  own  constituency,  and  by 
the  winding-up  of  his  work  at  the  Home  Office,  lie 
was  to  resign  his  under-secretaryship;  but  with  the 
new  session  and  a  certain  rearrangement  of  offices  it 
was  probable  that  he  would  be  brought  back  into  the 
Ministry.  Meanwhile  he  was  constantly  with  them; 
and  slie  tliought  that  his  interest  in  Edward's  work 


vliicli  liad 
I  sure  con- 
3  evening 
door  with 
'  su(l(h;nly 
at  i\l(dlor 

Rss  tluui  a 
?y  church. 
irct'Ua  sat 
,  thinking 
ree  miles 
:  —  of  the 

Avould  be 
,  and  she 

yearn  ing 
damp  and 

rom  Miss 
Ml,  appav- 
1  ill,  still 
^et  recon- 
le  Curzon 
pparently 
3  election 
Y,  and  by 
Hce.  He 
with  the 
offices  it 
:  into  the 
X\\  them ; 
"d's  work 


MATiCELLA. 


.5 


381 


and  anxiety  about  his  li(;alth  were  perhaps  both  good 
for  hirn  as  ludpiug  to  tlirow  off  something  of  his  own 
grief  and  depression. 

Whereby  it  will  be  noticed  that  Miss  lialliu,  like 
her  brother,  had  by  now  come  to  speak  intimately  and 
freely  to  Marcella  of  her  ohl  lover  and  tlieir  friend. 

Now  for  some  flays,  howevf-r,  she  had  received  no 
letter  from  either  brother  or  sister,  and  she  Avas  par- 
ticularly anxious  to  hear.  For  this  was  the  fourth  of 
()('toV)er,  anrl  on  the  second  he  was  to  have  delivered 
the  tirst  of  his  addresses.  How  had  the  frail  jirophet 
sped?  She  had  her  fears.  For  her  weekly  "even- 
ings" in  Brown's  Buildings  had  shown  her  a  good 
deal  of  the  pa^^sionate  strength  of  feeling  developed 
during  the  past  year  in  connection  with  this  particular 
propaganda.  She  douljted  whether  the  London  work- 
ing man  at  tlic  ijresent  moment  was  likf-lv  to  fnve 
even  Hallin  a  fair  hearing  on  the  pohit.  Howevi-r, 
Louis  Craven  was  to  be  there.  And  he  had  promised 
to  write  even  if  Susie  Hallin  could  find  no  tinif. 
Some  report  ought  to  reach  Mellor  bv  the  evening' 

Poor  Cravens  I  Tlie  young  wife,  who  was  expecting 
a  baby,  liad  behaved  with  great  spirit  through  the 
Orn'on  trouble;  and.  selling  their  bits  of  furniture  to 
pay  th^ir  debts,  they  had  gone  to  lo'lge  near  Anthony. 
Louis  had  got  some  odds  and  e:id<  of  desii^ming  and 
artistic  work  to  do  through  his  brother's  intiuence; 
and  was  writing  where  he  could,  lu-re  au'l  there. 
Marcella  had  introduced  them  to  the  Hallins.  and 
Susie  Hallin  was  taking  a  motherly  interest  in  the 
Anthonv.   ir»    liis    <jloomv    wav.  was 


coming   child. 


doing  all  he  could  for  th 


em. 


But  the  struiigle  wa; 


If  4 


s 

■   Mil 


382 


MAJIVKLLA. 


likely  to  bo  w.  hard  one,  and  MarnoUa  had  veooj^nisod 
of  latp  that  ill  Louis  as  in  Antliony  there  w(M'o  danger- 
ous possibilities  of  melaneholy  and  eoeentricity.  Her 
heart  was  often  sore  over  their  trouble  and  her  own 
imjiotenee. 

Meantime  for  some  wounds,  at  any  rate,  time  had 
brou<;ht  swift  cautery!  Not  three  days  after  her  final 
interview  with  Wliarton,  Avliile  the  catastrophe  in  the 
Labour  party  Avas  still  in  every  one's  mouth,  and  the 
air  was  full  of  bitter  speeches  and  recriminations, 
Hallin  one  evening  laid  down  his  newspa]ier  with  a 
sudden  startled  gesture,  and  then  pushed  it  over  to 
Marcella,  Tliere,  in  the  columns  devoted  to  personal 
news  of  various  sorts,  appeared  the  announcement : 

''A  marriage  has  been  arranged  between  Mr.  H.  8. 
Wliarton,  ]\LP.  for  West  l-5rookshire,  and  Lady  Selina 
Farrell,  only  surviving  daughter  of  Lord  Alresford. 
The  ceremony  will  probably  take  jdace  somewhere 
about  Easter  next.  jVIeanwhile  jNIr.  AVharton,  whose 
health  lias  suffered  of  late  from  his  exertions  in  and 
out  of  the  House,  has  been  ordered  to  the  East  for  rest 
by  his  medical  advisers.  He  and  his  friend  Sir 
William  Ffolliot  start  for  French  Cochin  China  in  a 
few  days.  Their  object  is  to  explore  the  famous 
ruined  temples  of  Angkor  in  Cam'nodia,  and  if  the 
season  is  favourable  they  ma}'  attempt  to  ascend  the 
^Nfekong.  jMr.  AVharton  is  paired  for  the  remainder  of 
the  session." 

"Did  you  know  anything  of  this?"  said  Hallin. 
with  that  careful  carelessness  in  which  [jcople  dress  ;i 
dubious  question. 

''Nothing,"  she  said  quietly. 


^ 


MARCELLA. 


383 


vec()<ifiiiso(l 
ire  dan  go  1- 
i\ty.  Hv\ 
1  her  own 

,  time  luul 
i-  her  final 
|)ho  in  tlio 
h,  and  th(^ 
minations, 
l>er  with  a 
it  over  to 
o  personal 
!ement : 
Mr.  H.  S. 
idy  Selina 
Alresford. 
lomewhore 
;on,  whoso 
)ns  in  and 
ist  for  rest 
Priond  Sir 
!hina  in  a 
le  famous 
,nd  if  the 
iscend  the 
nainder  of 

id  Hallin, 
)le  dress  a 


1 


Then  an  impulse  not  to  be  stoorl  jigainst,  springitij,' 
from  very  minj^'htd  deptiis  of  feeling',  drove  her  on. 
She,  too,  put  down  the  paper,  and  layinf,'  her  finger- 
tips together  on  iier  knee  she  said  with  an  odd  slight 
laugh: 

'■  But  I  was  the  last  person  to  know.  About  a  fort- 
night ago  Mr.  Wharton  proposed  to  me." 

Mallin  S])rang  from  his  chair,  almost  with  a  shout. 
"And  you  refused  him?" 

She  nodded,  and  then  was  angrily  aware  that,  totally 
iigainst  her  will  or  eonsent,  and  for  thf;  most  foolish 
and  remote  reasons,  those  two  eyes  of  hers  had  ^rown 
moist. 

Hallin  went  straight  over  to  her. 

"Do  you  mind  letting  me  shake  hands  with  you?" 
lie  said,  half  ashamed  of  his  outburst,  a  dancing  light 
of  pleasure  transforming  the  thin  face.  ''There  —  f 
am  an  idiot  I  We  won't  say  a  worrl  more  —  except 
;ibout  Lady  Selina.     Have  vou  seen  her?" 

"Three  or  four  times."' 

"What  is  she  like?" 

Marcella  liesitated. 

"Is  she  fat  — and  forty?"  said  Hallin,  fervently  — 
"Will  she  beat  him?" 

"  Not  at  all.  She  is  very  thin  —  thirty-five,  elegant, 
terribly  of  her  own  (.pinion  — and  makes  a  great 
parade  of 'papa.' " 

She  looked  round  at  him.  unsteadilv.  but  irailv 

"Oh:    I   see,"    said    Hallin,  with  disappointment, 
■she  will  only  tnke  care  he  doesn't  Ix-at  her  — which 
I  gather  from  your  manner  doesn't  matter.     And  her 
politics?" 


?lt» 


fii 

,  fff  I 


Hi 

1 

1 

*■ 

! 

II 

^'1 

1  • 

1  . 

■ '  M 

:  i  ■ 

1 

ii 

ii 

1 

384 


MARCEL  LA. 


"Lord  Alresfovd  was  left  out  of  the  Ministry,"  said 
Maveella  slily.  "lie  and  Lady  Stdiiia  thought  it  a 
pity." 

"  Alrosford  —  Alresford  ?  Why,  of  (iourse !  He  was 
Lord  I'rivy  Seal  in  their  last  Cabinet  —  a  uarrow- 
niinded  old  stick !  —  did  a  heap  of  mischief  in  the  Lords. 
Well ! "  — Hallin  pondered  a  moment  —  "  Wharton  will 
go  over!  " 

Marctdla  was  silent.  The  tremor  of  that  wrestler's 
lioiir  liad  not  yet  pass(Hl  away.  The  girl  could  iind  no 
words  in  wliich  to  discuss  Wharton  liims(df,  this  last 
amazing  act,  or  its  future. 

As  for  Hallin,  lie  sat  lost  in  pleasant  dreams  of  a 
whitewashed  WJiarton,  comfortably  settled  at  last 
below  tlie  gangway  on  the  Conservative  side,  using 
all  the  old  catch-words  in  slightly  different  connec- 
tions, and  living  gaily  on  his  Lady  Selina.  Frag- 
ments from  the  talk  of  Nehemiah  —  Nehemiah  the 
happy  and  truculent,  that  new  "  scourge  of  God " 
upon  the  parasites  of  Labour  —  of  poor  l^ennett,  of 
]\rollov,  and  of  various  others  who  had  found  time  to 
drop  in  upon  him  since  the  Labour  smash,  kept  whirl- 
ing in  his  mind.  The  same  prediction  he  had  just 
made  to  Marcella  was  to  be  discerned  in  several  of 
them.  He  vowed  to  himself  that  he  would  write  to 
Raeburn  that  night,  congratulate  him  and  the  party 
on  the  possibility  of  so  eminent  a  recruit  —  and  hint 
another  item  of  news  by  the  way.  She  had  trusted 
her  confidence  to  him  without  any  pledge  —  an  act  for 
which  he  paid  her  well  thenceforward,  in  the  coin  of  a 
friendship  far  more  intimate,  expansive,  and  delight- 
ful than  anything  his  sincerity  liad  as  yet  allowed 
him  to  show  her. 


MAItCKLLA. 


385 


bry,"  said 
light  it  11 

He  was 

L    lUlllOW- 

he  Lords, 
ai'ton  will 

wrestler's 
Id  lind  no 
,  this  last 

'ams  of  a 
1  at  last 
ide,  using 
it  connec- 
a.  Frag- 
miah  the 
of  God" 
ennett,  of 
id  time  to 
3pt  whirl- 
had  just 
several  of 
i  write  to 
the  party 
-and  hint 
.d  trusted 
an  act  for 
i  coin  of  a 
d  delight- 
t  allowed 


Tint  these  London  incidents  anfl  niemoriea,  near  as 
they  were  in   time,  io.>ked    i„i,ny   of  them    strangely 
remote  to  .Marcidla  in   this  nunning  silence.      When 
she  drew  back  from  tiie  wimbw,  after  (hirkening  the 
now  sun-liooded  room  in  a  very  thorough  l.iisincss-Iike 
way,  in  order  that  she  miglit  have  four  uv  five  hours' 
sleep,  there  was  soim-thing  symh(di(;  in  the  act.     She 
gave  back  licr  mind,  her  self,  to  the  care.s,  the  anx- 
ieties, tlie  remorses  of  the  past  three  weeks.      During 
the  night  she  had  jjeen  sitting  up  with  her  fatiier  that 
her  mother  might  rest.     Now,  as  she  lav  down,  she 
tliouglit  with  tiie  sore  tension  which  had  latelv  become 
liabitiial  to  her,  of  her  father's  state,  her  mother's 
strange  personality,  her  own  short-comings. 

By  the  middle  of  the  morning  she  was  downstairs 
again,  vigorous  and  fresh  as  ever.  Mrs.  Boyce's  maid 
was  for  the  moment  in  charge  of  the  patient,  who  was 
doing  well.  .A[rs.  lioyee  was  writing  some  household 
notes  in  the  drawing-room.  Marcella  went  in  search 
of  her. 

The  bare  room,  just  as  it  ever  was  — with  its  faded 
antique  charm  — looked  bright  and  tempting  in  the 
sun.  But  the  cheerfulness  of  it  did  but  sliarpen  the 
nnpression  of  that  thin  form  writing  in  the  window. 
Mrs.  Boyce  looked  years  older.  The  figure  had  slirunk 
and  flattened  into  tliat  of  an  old  Avoman:  the  hair, 
which  two  years  before  had  been  still  young  and  abun- 
dant, was  now  easily  concealed  unde/  the  close  white 
cap  she  had  adopted  very  soon  after  her  daughter  had 
I'^ft  Mellor.  The  dress  was  still  exquisitelv  neat:  but 
pi'.iiner  and  coarser.     Only  the  beautifuf  hands  and 

vol..  ii._2u 


386 


MARCKLLA. 


tliH   (lelioate    stiitcliness   o 


I'  (';irri;i<'('   remaiiitMl  —  sol<> 


relH's  of  a  lov»'liuess  whicli  had  cost  its  owner  few 
pangs  to  jiart  with. 

Marcella  hovered  near  lier  — a  little  behind  her  — 
looking  at  her  from  time  to  time  with  :i.  yearning 
compiUK'tion  — which  Mrs.  Hoyee  seemed  to  bo  aware 
of,  andlc  avoid. 

"Mamma,  can't  I  do  those  hitters  for  you?     I  am 

quite  fresh." 

"  Xo,  tliank  you.     They  are  just  done." 

When  they  were  all  finished  and  stamped,  Mrs. 
Boyee  made  some  careful  entries  in  a  very  methodical 
account-book,  and  then  got  up,  locking  the  drawers  of 
her  little  writing-table  behind  her. 

"We  can  keep  the  London  nurse  another  week  I 
think,"  she  said. 

"  There  is  no  need, "  said  Marcella,  quickly.  "  Emma 
and  I  could  divide  the  nights  now  and  spare  you 
altogether.     You  see  I  can  sleep  at  any  time." 

"Your  father  seems  to  prefer  Nurse  Wenlock,"  said 
Mrs.  Boyce. 

Marcella  took  the  little  blow  in  silence.  No  doubt 
it  was  her  due.  During  the  past  two  years  she  had 
spent  two  separate  months  at  Mellor;  she  had  gone 
away  in  oi)positiou  to  her  father's  wish;  and  had 
found  herself  on  her  return  more  of  a  stranger  to  her 
parents  than  ever.  ISIr.  Boyce's  illness,  involving  a 
steady  extension  of  paralytic  weakness,  with  occa- 
sional acute  fits  of  pain  and  danger,  had  mside  steady 
tiiough  very  gradual  prOj^!''  s".  .dl  the  tinu'.  lUii  ii 
was  not  till  some  days  M'  '  .  :  return  liume  that 
jMarcella  had  realise«l  a  tenth  part  of  what  lier  mother 


as 


MA  It  (KL  LA. 


887 


10(1  —  sole 
)wner  lew 


iiid  her  — 

yearning 

I  be  aware 


m" 


I  am 


iped,  Mrs. 
ncthodiciil 
Ivawers  of 


ler  WH 


ek  I 


-.    "  Emma 
spare  you 

10." 

lock,"  said 


No  doubt 
,rs  she  bad 
5  had  gone 
;  and  had 
nger  to  her 
nvolving  a 
with  ocoa- 
lade  steady 
le.  But  it 
home  that 
her  mothei- 


had    undergone     inoe   the   disap*   ^^us   spring   of   the 
i.mnhu'. 

She  passed  now  from  the  subjept  of  tlie  nurse  with 
a  balf-timid  remark  aboii!  "expense." 

"Oh!  tbe  expense  doesn't  matter!"  said  Mrs.  Hoviv. 
as  she  stood  absently  before  the  hitely  kin.Hed  fir.-, 
warming  lier  chiHed  fingers  at  the  blaze. 

"Papa  is  more  at  ease  in  those  ways?"  Mareella 
ventured.  And  kneeling  down  in-side  her  inother  she 
gently  chafed  one  of  the  cohl  liands. 

"There  seems  to  be  enough  for  what  is  wanted," 
said  Mi'H.  IJoyce,  bearing  the  ehaling  with  patiene.". 
••  Vour  father,  I  believe,  has  nia<h>  great  progress  this 
year  in  freeing  the  estate.  Thank  you,  my  dear.  1 
am  not  cold  now." 

And  she  gently  withdrew  her  hand. 

Mareella,  indeed,  had  already  noticed  tliat  there 
wer(!  now  no  weeds  on  the  garden-paths,  that  instead 
of  one  gardener  there  were  three,  that  the  ol  library 
had  been  decently  patched  and  restored.  tli;.t  there 
was  another  servant,  that  \Villiam.  grown  into  a  very 
tolerable  fc  ;tman,  wore  a  reputalde  coat,  and  that  a 
plain  but  ade(piate  carriage  and  jiorse  had  met  her  at 
the  station,  iler  pity  even  understood  that  p;  rt  of 
her  father's  bitter  resentment  of  his  ever-advancing 
disaldement  came  from  his  feeling  that  here  at  h.  t^ 
just  as  death  was  in  sight  — he,  that  scpia lid  faii  ire, 
Dick  Boyce,  was  making  a  success  of  something. 

Presently,  as  she  knelt  before  lj,e  fire,  a  (p^ieslon 
'■scaped  her,  which,  when  it  was  spoken,  she  h  df 
regretted. 

'•  Has  papa,  been  able  to  do  anvMiing  for  the  cottajTPs 
yet  ?  "  ^ 


Hi! 


yl 


388 


MARCEL  LA. 


I  \i 


i 


.:j 


"  I  don't  think  so,''  said  "Sirs.  Boyce,  calmly.  After 
a  minute's  pause  she  added,  "That  will  be  for  your 
reign,  my  dear." 

Marcella  looked  up  with  a  sharp  thrill  of  pain. 

"  Papa  is  better,  mamma,  and  —  and  I  don't  know 
what  you  mean.     I  shall  never  reign  here  without 

you." 

Mrs.  Boyce  began  to  tidget  Avith  the  rings  on  her 

thin  left  hand. 

"  When  Mellor  ceases  to  be  your  father's  it  will  be 
yours,"  she  said,  not  without  a  certain  sharp  decision; 
"that  was  settled  long  ago.  I  must  be  free  — and  if 
you  are  to  do  anything  with  this  place,  you  must  giv(! 
your  youth  and  strength  to  it.  And  your  father  is  not 
better  —  except  for  the  moment.  Dr.  Clarke  exactly 
foretold  the  course  of  his  illness  to  me  two  years  ago, 
on  my  urgent  request.  He  may  live  four  months  — 
six,  if  we  can  get  him  to  the  South.  More  is  impos- 
sible." 

There  was  something  ghastly  in  her  dry  composure. 
Marcella  caught  her  hand  again  and  leant  her  trem- 
bling young  cheek  against  it. 

"1  could  not  live  here  without  you,  mamma!  " 

Mrs.  J5oyc(^  could  not  for  once  repr(\ss  the  inner 
fever  which  in  general  her  will  controlled  so  well. 

"  I  hardly  think  it  would  matter  to  you  so  much, 
my  dear." 

Marcella  shrank. 

"I  don't  wonder  you  say  that!  "  she  said  in  a  low 
voice.  "  Do  you  think  it  was  all  a  mistake,  mamma, 
my  going  away  eighteen  months  ago  —  a  wrong  act?" 

Mrs.  Boyce  grew  restless. 


MAIiCELLA. 


389 


ly.     After 
!  for  your 

pain. 

on't  know 
•e  without 

gs  on  her 

it  will  ho 
[)  decision; 
e  —  and  if 

must  giv^o 
ther  is  not 
•ke  exactly 
years  ago, 

months  — 

is  inipos- 

3oniposure. 

her  trem- 

ma!" 

the  inner 
;o  well. 
I  so  much, 


I  in  a  low 
e,  mamma, 
rong  actV" 


"I  judge  nobody,  my  dear!  — unless  I  am  obliged. 
As  you  know,  I  am  for  liberty —  above  all"  — she 
spoke  with  emphasis —  "  for  letting  the  past  alone. 
iJut  I  imagine  you  must  certainly  have  learnt  to  do 
without  us.     Xow  I  ought  to  go  to  your  father." 

But  .Marcella  held  her. 

"J)o  you  remember  in  the  Punjatorio,  mamma,  the 
lines  about  the  loser  in  the  game:  'AVhen  the  game  of 
(lice  bveaks  up,  lie  who  lost  lingers  sorrowfully  behind, 
going  over  the  throws,  and  leandtuj  h>i  his  grief? 
Do  you  remember?" 

Mrs.  IJoyco  looked  down  upon  her,  involuntarily  a 
little  curious,  a  little  nervous,  but  assenting.  It  was 
one  of  the  inconsistencies  of  her  strange"' character 
that  she  had  all  her  life  l)een  a  persistent  Dante 
student.  The  taste  for  the  most  strenuous  and  pas- 
sionate of  poets  had  developed  in  her  hapjiy  youth;  it 
had  survived  through  the  loneliness  of  her  middle  life. 
Like  everything  else  personal  to  herself  she  never 
spoke  of  it;  but  the  little  worn  books  on  lier  table  had 
been  familiar  to  I\Iarcella  from  a  child. 

''E  tristo  imparaf"  repeated  Marcella,  her  voice 
wavering.  "  Mamma  "  —  she  laid  her  face  against  her 
mother's  dress  again  —  "  I  have  lost  more  throws  than 
you  think  in  the  last  two  years.  Won't  you  believe 
I  may  have  learnt  a  little?  " 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  her  mother's  pinched  and 
mask-like  face.  Mrs.  Boyce's  lips  moved  as  though 
she  would  have  asked  a  question.  But  she  did  not 
ask  it.  She  drew,  instead,  the  stealthy  breath  Mar- 
cella knew  well  —  the  breath  of  one  whJhas  measured 
piecisely  her  own  powers  of  endurance,  and  will  not 


■   1 


w 


390 


MARCELLA. 


risk  them  for  a  moment  by  any  dit^rossion  into  iilini 
iields  of  (.'motion. 

"  Well,  but  one  expects  persons  like  you  to  leani," 
she  said,  with  a  light,  cold  manner,  which  made  the 
words  mere  convention.  There  was  silence  an  instant ; 
then,  probably  to  releasee  herself,  her  hand  just 
touched  her  daughter's  hair.  "Now,  will  you  come 
up  in  half  an  hour?  That  was  twelve  striking,  and 
Emma  is  never  quite  punctual  with  his  food." 

Marcella  went  to  her  father  at  the  hour  named. 
She  found  him  in  his  wheeled  chair,  beside  a  window 
opened  to  the  sun,  and  overlooking  the  Cedar  Garden. 
The  room  in  which  he  sat  was  the  state  bedroom  of 
the  old  house.     It  had  a  marvellous  paper  of  branch- 
ing trees  and  parrots  and  red-robed  Chinamen,  in  the 
taste  of  tlie  morning  room  downstairs,  a  carved  four- 
post  bed,  a  grate  adorned  with  purplish  Dutch  tiles, 
an  array  of  family  miniatures  over  the  mantelpiece, 
and  on  a  neighbouring  wall  a  rack  of  old  swords  and 
rapiers.     The  needlework  hangings  of  the  bed  were 
full  of  holes;  the  seats  of  the  Chippendale  chairs  were 
frayed  or  tattered.     lUit,  none  the  less,  the  inalienable 
character  and  dignity  of  his  sleeping-room  were  a 
bitter  satisfaction  to  Richard  Boyce,  even  in  his  sick- 
ness.    After  all  said  and  done,  he  was  king  here  in 
his  father's   and  grandfather's  place;    ruling  where 
they  ruled,  and  — whether  they  would  or  no  — dying 
where  they  died,  with  the  same  family  faces  to  bear 
him  witness  from  the  walls,  and  the  same  vault  awnit- 

ing  him. 

When  his  daugliter  entered,  he  Lurncd  his  head,  and 


MAIiCELLA. 


391 


m 


into  ;ili<"ii 

to  Icai'ii," 
.  made  the 
xn  instant; 
hand  just 
yon  come 
■iking,  and 
d." 

ur  named. 
3  a  window 
[ar  Garden, 
bedroom  oi' 
of  branch- 
men,  in  the 
Eirved  fonr- 
hit(;h  tiles, 
lantelpiece, 
swords  and 
e  bed  were 
chairs  were 
inalienabh^ 
om  were  a 
in  his  sick- 
ing here  in 
ding  where 
no  —  dying 
ces  to  bear 
/■ault  awa it- 
is  head,  and 


liis  eyes,  deep  and  black  still  as  ever,  but  sunk 

yellow  relic  of  a  face,  showed  a  certain  jigitn 

She  was  disagreea])ly  aware  that  his  thou'dits 


much 


were 


that  h 


grievance 


occupied  with  her;  tnat  no  was  lull  o  ^ 
towards  her,  and  would  probably  before  long  bring 
the  pathos  of  his  situation  as  well  as  the  weight  of  his 
(lying  autliority  to  bear  upon  her,  for  purposes  she 
already  suspected  Avitli  alai'iii. 

"Are  you  a  little  easier,  papa?"  she  said,  as  she 
came  up  to  him. 

'M  should  think  as  a  nurse  you  ought  to  know 
better,  my  dear,  than  to  ask,"  he  said  testily.  ''  When 
a  person  is  in  my  condition,  eiKpiiries  of  that  sort  are 
a  mockery ! " 

"But  one  may  be  in  less  or  more  pain,"  slie  said 
gently.  "  I  hoped  Dr.  Clarke's  treatment  yesterday 
miglit  liave  given  you  some  relief." 

lie  did  not  vouchsafe  an  ansAver.  She  took  some 
work  and  sat  down  by  him.  Airs.  Boyce,  who  had 
been  tidying  a  table  of  food  and  medicine,  came  and 
asked  him  if  he  would  be  wheeled  into  another  room 
across  the  gallery,  which  had  been  arranged  as  a 
sitting-room.     He  shook  his  head  irritably. 

"I  am  not  lit  for  it.  Can't  you  see?  And  I  want 
to  speak  to  :\Iarcella." 

Mrs.  Boyce  went  away.  :\Iarcella  waited,  not  with- 
out a  tremor.  She  was  sitting  in  the  sun,  her  head 
bent  over  the  muslin  strings  she  was  hemming  for  her 
nurse's  bonnet.  The  window  was  wide  open;  out- 
side, the  leaves  under  a  warm  breeze  were  gently 
drifting  down  into  the  Cedar  Garden,  amid  a  tangled 
luass  of  flowers,  mostly  yellow  or  purple.     To  one 


■■I: 


!  'i 

1^;  .i 


it 


If" 


392 


MARCELLA. 


n 

m 


side  rose  the  dark  layers  of  the  cedars;  to  the  other, 
the  grey  front  of  the  library  wing. 

Mr.  Boyce  looked  at  her  with  the  frown  which  had 
now  become  habitual  to  him,  moved  his  lips  once  or 
twice  without  speaking;  and  at  last  made  his  effort. 

•'I  should  think,  ^larcella,  you  must  often  regret 
by  now  the  step  you  took  eighteen  months  ago!  " 

She  grew  pale. 

"How  regret  it,  papa?"  she  snid,  witliont  look- 
ing U{). 

"Why,  good  God!"  he  said  angrily;  "I  should 
think  the  reasons  for  regret  are  plain  enough.  You 
threw  over  a  man  who  was  devoted  to  you,  and  could 
have  given  you  the  finest  position  in  the  county,  for 
the  most  nonsensical  reasons  in  the  world  —  reasons 
that  by  now,  I  am  certain,  you  are  ashamed  of." 

He  saw  her  Avince,  and  enjoyed  his  prerogative  of 
weakness.  In  his  normal  health  he  would  never  have 
dared  so  to  speak  to  her.  l-Jut  of  late,  during  long 
fits  of  feverish  brooding  —  intensified  by  her  return 
home  —  he  had  vowed  to  himself  to  speak  his  mind. 

"Aren't  you  ashamed  of  them?"  he  repeated,  as 
she  was  silent. 

She  looked  up. 

"  I  am  not  asluimed  of  anything  I  did  to  save  Hurd, 
if  that  is  what  you  mean,  papa." 

Mr.  I^oyce's  anger  grew. 

"  Of  course  you  know  what  everybody  said  ? '' 

She  stooped  over  her  work  again,  and  did  not  reply. 

"It's  no  good  being  sullen  over  it,"  he  said  in 
exasperation;  "I'm  your  father,  and  I'm  dying.  I 
have  a  right  to  (question  you.     It's  my  duly  to  sec 


ill 


MAliCELLA. 


393 


something  settled,  if  I  can,  before  I  go.  Is  it  true 
that  all  the  time  you  were  attacking  Kaeburn  about 
politics  and  the  reprieve,  and  what  not,  you  were 
really  behaving  as  you  never  ought  to  have  behaved, 
with  Harry  Wiiarton?" 

He  gave  out  the  wonls  with  sharp  emphasis,  and, 
bending  towards  her,  he  laid  an  emaciated  hand  upon 
her  arm. 

"  What  use  is  there,  papa,  m  going  back  to  these 
things?"  she  said,  driven  to  bay,  her  cohmr  going  and 
coming.  "  I  may  have  been  wrong  in  a  hundred  ways, 
but  you  never  understood  that  the  real  reason  for  it 
all  was  that  — that  — I  never  was  in  love  with  Mr. 
Eaeburn." 

"Then  why  did  you  accept  him?"  He  fell  back 
against  his  pillows  with  a  jerk. 

"As  to  that,  1  will  confess  my  sins  readily  enough," 
she  said,  while  her  lip  trembled,  and  he  saw  the  tears 
spring  into  her  eyes.  "I  accepted  him  for  what  you 
just  now  called  his  position  in  the  county,  though  not 
quite  in  that  way  either." 

He  was  silent  a  little,  then  he  began  again  in  a 
voice  which  gradually  became  unsteady  from  self-oity. 

'•  Well,  now  look  here !  I  have  been  thinking  about 
this  matter  a  great  deal  —  and  God  knows  I've  time  to 
think  and  cause  to  think,  considering  the  state  I'm 
111  —  and  I  see  no  reason  whatever  why  I  should  not 
try  —  before  I  die  —  to  put  this  thing  strairjht.  That 
man  was  head  over  ears  in  love  with  voxi.  madb/  in 
love  with  you.  I  used  to  watch  him.\^aul  I  know. 
Of  course  you  ofpended  and  distressed  him  greatlv. 
He  could  never  have  expected  such  conduct  fi-oin  vou 


f 


594 


MARCFLLA. 


01*  any  on<i  olsc.  Hut.  Iie\s  not  tlic  niim  to  cluingo  vonnd 
t'Msily.  or  to  tako  up  with  any  one  clst'.  Now,  if  you 
ivgivt  what  you  did  or  tlic,  way  in  Avdiicli  you  did  it, 
wliy  shouldn't  I  — ^a  dyinjjf  man  may  Ik^  allowed  a 
little  lioence  1  should  think!  —  give  liini  a  hint?" 

"Papa!"  cried  Marcella,  dropping  lier  work,  and 
looking  at  him  with  a  pale,  indignant  passion,  which 
a  year  ago  would  have  tpudled  him  utterly,  Ihit  he 
litdd  np  his  liand. 

''Xow  just  let  me  finish.  It  would  be  no  good  my 
doing  a  thing  of  this  kind  without  saying  sometliing 
to  you  first,  beiniuse  you'd  find  it  out,  and  your  pride 
would  be  tlie  ruin  of  it.  Vou  always  had  a  demoniacal 
])ride,  Mareella,  oven  when  you  were  a  tiny  cliild;  but 
if  yon  nuike  up  your  mind  now  to  let  me  tell  him  you 
regret  what  you  did  —  just  that  —  you'll  make  him 
liappy,  and  yourself,  for  you  know  very  well  he's  a 
man  of  the  highest  character  —  and  your  poor  father, 
Avho  never  did  you  nuich  harm  any  way !  "  His  voice 
faltered.  "I'd  manage  it  so  that  there  should  be 
nothing  humiliating  to  you  in  it  whatever.  As  if 
thei-e  could  be  anything  humiliating  in  confessing 
sucli  a  mistake  as  that;  besides,  what  is  there  to  be 
ashamed  of?  Y'ou're  no  pauper.  I've  pulled  Mellor 
out  of  the  mud  for  you,  though  you  and  your  mother 
do  give  me  credit  for  so  precious  little! " 

He  lay  back,  trembling  Avitli  fatigue,  yet  still  star- 
ing at  her  with  glittering  eyes,  while  his  hand  on  the 
invalid  table  fixed  to  the  side  of  his  chair  shook 
piteously.  Mareella  dreaded  the  effect  the  whole 
scene  might  liave  upon  him;  but,  now  they  were  i.. 
the  midst  of  it,  botli  feeling  for  herself  and  prudence 


ir 


MAIiCELLA. 


S% 


uiyc^  round 
o\v,  if  yoii 
^'ou  (lid  it, 
;i1Iow(mI  :i 
liiut?" 
work,  and 
ion,  which 
'.     ]5ut  he 

0  good  my 
sometliing 
your  j)rid(' 
lomoiiiaeiil 
eliild;  but 
11  him  you 
make  him 
/■ell  he's  a 
00 r  father, 

His  voice 
should  be 
er.  As  if 
confessinjj; 
;here  to  be 
led  Mellur 
)ur  mother 

1  still  star- 
and  on  tlie 
lair  shook 
the  whole 
!y  were  i.. 
I  prudence 


: 


.m 


for  bin,  drove  her  into  the  strongest  speech  she  cuhl 


(levisi 


"Pa))a.  if  a„!ilhin,j  of  that  sort  were  done,  T  shouhl 
take  care  Mr.  Ra.dmrn  knew  J  had  had  nothing  to  d.. 
with  It- m  such  a  way  that  it  would  he  impossible 
tor  hira  to  carry  it  further.  Dear  j.apa,  don't  think 
ot  such  a  thing  any  more,  liecause  J  treated  Mr 
Itaeburn  unjustly  last  year,  are  we  now  to  harasr  and 
persecute  him?  I  would  sooner  disappear  from  everv- 
body  1  know  — from  you  and  mamma,  from  England 

—  and  never  be  lieard  of  again."' 

Slie  stopped  a  moment  — struggling  for  composure 

—  tliat  she  might  n</.  excite  liini  too  much. 
'•Besides,  it  u'ouhl  be  absurd!     You  forget  I  have 

seen  a  good  deal  of  Mr.  Kaeburn  latcdv  —  while  I  have 
been  witli  the  Winterbournes.      He  1ms  entirely  cfven 
up  all  thought  of  me.     Even  mv  vanitv  could  see'tliat 
plainly   enough.      His    best    friends    expect   him    to 
marry  a  bright,  fascinating  little  creature  of  whom  I 
saw  a  good  deal  in  James  Street  —  a  Miss  Macdonald. " 
"Miss  how— much?"  he  asked  roughly. 
She  repeated  the  name,  and  then  dwelt,  with  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  confusion  and  repetition,  upon  the 
probabilities  of  the  matter -half  conscious  all  the 
time  that  she  was  playing  a  part,  persuading  herself 
and  him  of  something  she  was  not  at  all  clear  about 
m  her  own  inner  mind  — but  miserablv,  passionate] v 
determined  to  go  through  with  it  all  the  same. 

He  bore  with  what  she  said  to  him.  l,alf  ,lis- 
•uj^pointed  and  depressed,  yet  also  half  incredulous. 
He  had  always  been  obstinate,  and  the  approach  of 
"-''til    had  empliasised   his    f.w   salient  qualities,  as 


1 

i-;  ; 

I 

w 


896 


MARCELLA. 


Hi 


decay  had  empluisised  the  bodily  fraino.  He  said  to 
himself  stubbonily  that  he  would  tind  sonic  way  yet  of 
testing  the  matter  in  spite  of  her.  He  would  think 
it  out. 

Meanwhile,  step  by  stop,  she  brought  the  conversa- 
tion to  less  dangerous  things,  and  she  was  linally  glid- 
ing into  some  chat  about  the  \\interbournes  when  he 
interrupted  her  abrui)tly  — 

"And  that  other  fellow  —  Wharton.  Your  mother 
tells  me  you  have  seen  him  in  London.  Has  he  been 
making  love  to  vou.  " 

"  Suppose  I  won't  be  catechised ! "  she  said  gaily, 
det(U'mined  to  allow  no  more  tragcly  of  any  kind. 
"Besides,  papa,  you  can't  read  your  gossip  as  good 
people  siiould.  Mr.  AVharton's  engagement  to  a  cer- 
tain Lady  Selina  Farrell  — d  distant  cousin  of  the 
Winterbournes  —  was  announced  in  several  papers 
with  great  plainness  three  weeks  ago," 

At  that  moment  her  mother  came  in,  looking  anx- 
iously at  them  both,  and  half  resentfully  at  ]\Iarcella. 
Marcella,  sore  and  bruised  in  every  moral  libre,  got  up 
to  go. 

Something  in  the  involuntary  droop  of  her  beautiful 
head  as  she  left  the  room  drew  her  father's  eyes  after 
her,  and  for  the  time  his  feeling  towards  her  softened 
curiously.  AVell,  she  had  not  made  very  much  of  her 
life  so  far!  That  old  strange  jealousy  of  her  ability, 
her  beauty,  and  her  social  j^lace,  he  had  once  felt  so 
hotly,  died  away.  He  wished  her,  indeed,  to  be  Lady 
Maxwell.  Yet  for  tlie  moment  there  was  a  certain 
balm  in  the  idea  that  she  too—  her  mother's  daughter 


•^v 


,'ith  her  Merritt  blood  —  could  be  unlucky. 


MAliCELLA. 


897 


i 


Maroellu  went  about  all  day  under  a  vague  sense  of 
impending  trouble  -  the  result,  no  doubt,  of  that  in- 
tolerable threat  of  her  father's,  against  which  she  was, 
after  all,  so  defenceless. 

liut  whatever  it  was,  it  made  her  all  the  more  ner- 
v'ous  and  sensitive  about  the  Hallins  ;  about  her  one 
true  friend,  to  whom  she  was  slowly  revealing  herself 
even  without   speech ;    whose   spiritual  strength  had 
been  guiding  and  training  her ;  whose  physical  weak- 
ness had  drawn  to  him  the  maternal,  the  .spendim/  in- 
stincts which  her  nursing  life  had  so  richly  developed. 
She  strolled  down  the  drive  to  meet  the  post      JUit 
there  were  no  letters  from  London,  and  she  came  in 
inclined   to  be  angry  indeed  with  Louis  Craven   for 
<leserting  her,  but  saying  to  herself  at  the  same  time 
that  she  must  have  heard  if  anything  liad  gone  wroiHr. 
An  hour  or  so  later,  just  as  the  October  evening 
was  closing  in,  she  was  sitting  dreaming  over  a  dim 
wood-fire  in  the  drawing-room.     Her  father,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  had  been  very  tired  and  comatose 
all  day.     Her  mother  was  with  him ;  the  London  nurse 
was  to  sit  up,  and  Afarcella  felt  herself  forlorn  and 
suj)prfluous. 

Suddenly,  in  the  silence  of  the  house,  she  heard  the 
ii'ont-door  bell  ring.  There  was  a  step  in  the  hall  — 
^lie  sprang  up  — the  door  opened,  and  AVilliam,  with 
tiuttered  emi)hasis,  announced 

''  Lord  Maxwell !  " 

In  the  dusk  she  could  just  see  his  tall  form  —  the 
short  pause  as  he  perceived  her  — then  her  hand  w;is 
m  his,  and  the  paralysing  astonishment  of  that  first 
instant  had  disappeared  under  the  grave  emotion  of 
his  look. 


808 


MAUCKLLA. 


.m 


\y\ 


Will  yon  oxciist 


me,"  lie  said,  "  for  (!omiii^'  at  tlii- 


heard  nothing  yet 
—  and  Hallin  himself  was  anxious  1 


hour?     lUit  I  am  afraid  you  have 

of  our  bad  news 

should  come  and  tell   you 


write,  and  Mr.  Craven, 


Miss   Hallin   eould    not 
i  was  to  tell  you,  had  been  ill 
for  a'week  with  a  ehill.     You  haven't  then  seen  any 
account  of  the  lecture  in  the  papers  ?  " 

''No;  I  have  looked  yesterday  and  to-day  in  our 
paper,  but  theie  was  nothing  —  " 

"  Some  of  the  Radical  papers  reported  it.  1  hoped 
you  might  have  seen  it.  But  when  we  got  down  herr 
this  afternoon,  and  there  was  nothing  from  you,  botli 
Miss  Hallin  and  Edward  felt  sure  you  had  not  heard 
—  and  1  walked  over.  It  was  f  most  painful,  dis- 
tressing scene,  and  he  —is  very  ill." 

"But  you  have  brought  him  to  the  Court?"  she 
said  trembling,  lost  in  the  thought  of  Hallin,  Iut 
quick  breath  coming  and  going.  "He  was  able  l<. 
bear  the  journey  ?     Will  you  tell  mc  ?  —  will  you  sit; 

down  ?  " 

He  thanked  her  hiu-iedly,  and  took  a  seat  o})po8itt' 
to  her,  within  the  circle  of  the  lirelight,  so  that  she 
saw   his  deep  mourning  and  the  look   of  repressf  .1 

suffering. 

"  The  whole  thing  was  extraordinary  —  F  can  hardly 
now  describe  it,"  he  said,  holding  his  hat  in  his  hands 
and  staring  into  the  fire.  "  It  began  excellently.  There 
was  a  very  fidl  room.  Bennett  was  in  the  chair  — and 
Edward  seemed  much  ns  usual.  He  had  been  looking 
desperately  ill,  but  he  declared  that  he  was  sleeping 
better,  and  that  his  sister  and  1  coddled  him.  Then. 
—  directly  he  was  wull  started!  — I  feU.  kohh^Iiow  ih.al 


MARCELLA. 


390 


M^  at  this 
)tliiiig  yet 

anxious  I 
ooulil  not 
id  been  ill 

seen  any 

Lay  in  our 

1  hoped 

down  here 

you,  both 

not  heard 

linful,  dis- 

uvt?"  slip 
lallin,  lu'i' 
as  able  In 
/ill  vou  sit 

at  o})positt' 

0  that  she 
repressfd 

can  hardly 

1  his  hands 
itly.  There 
;hair  —  and 
pen  looking 
as  sleepinj^ 
im.  Thei). 
nchow  thai 


the  audience  was  very  hostih-.  And  he  evidently  felt 
it  more  and  more.  Th.u-c  was  a  good  deal  of  interrup- 
tion and  hardly  any  cheers  —  and  I  saw  after  a  little 

—  I  was  sitting  not  far  behind  him  —  that  he  was  dis- 
couraged—  that  he  had  lost  touch.  It  was  iircsently 
clear,  indeed,  that  the  real  interest  of  the  meeting  lay 
not  in  the  least  in  what  he  had  to  say,  but  in  the  debate 
that  was  to  follow.  They  meant  to  let  him  have  his 
hour — but  not  a  minute  more.  1  watched  the  men 
about  me,  and  f  could  see  them  following  the  clock  — 
thirsting  for  their  turn.  Nothing  that  he  said  seemed 
to  penetrate  them  in  the  smallest  degree.  He  was 
there  merely  as  a  ninei)in  to  be  knocked  over.  I 
never  saw  a  meeting  so  possessed  with  a  iuadness  of 
fanatical  conviction  —  it  was  amazing  ! " 

He  paused,  looking  sadly  before  him.     She  made  a 
little  movement,  and  he  roused  himstdf  instantly. 
"  It  was  just  a  few  minutes  before  he  was  to  sit  down 

—  I  was  thankful ! —  when  suddenly  —  \  heard  his  voice 
change.  I  do  not  know  now  what  happened  —  but  T 
believe  he  completely  lost  consciousness  of  the  scene 
before  him  —  the  sense  of  strain,  of  exhaustion,  of 
making  no  way,  must  have  snapped  something.  He 
began  a  sort  of  confession  — a  reverie  in  public  —  al)out 
himself,  his  life,  his  thoughts,  his  prayers,  his  hopes  — 
mostly  his  religious  hopes  —  for  the  working  man,  for 
England  —  1  never  heard  anything  of  the  kiiul  from 
him  before  —  you  know  his  reserve,     ft  was  so  intinuite 

—  so  painful  — oh!  so  painful!"  — he  drew  himself 
together  with  an  involuntary  shudder  —  "before  this 
erowd,  this  eager  hostile  crowd  which  was  only  pining 
for  him  to  sit  dovvp  —  to  get  out  uf  their  wav.     The 


\i 


WT 


400 


MARCELLA. 


in 


*li 


men  nciir  lue  l>t'}:ciiu  tt)  look  ut  oiuih  otlu'r  and  titter. 
Thoy  woiulei'ed  what  I'o  meant  by  nuiuiulcring  on  like 
that  —  'damiKMl  cautiiij^  stuff —  I  heard  one  man  near 
me  eall  it.  I  tore  off  a  bit  of  paper,  and  i)ass(^d  a  lint; 
to  Bennett  asking  him  to  get  hohl  of  Edward,  to  stoi» 
it.  ]iut  I  think  Jicnnett  had  rather  h)st  his  i)resenc(' 
of  mind,  and  I  saw  liim  look  back  at  nn;  and  sliake  his 
liead.  Then  time  was  nj),  and  they  began  to  shout 
him  down." 

ManjeUa  made  an  exchimation  of  horror.  He  turned 
to  her. 

''  1  think  it  was  the  most  tragic  scene  1  ever  saw," 
he  said  with  a  feeling  as  simple  as  it  was  intense. 
"  This  crowd  so  angry  and  excited  —  without  a  particle 
of  understanding  or  symi)athy — laughing,  and  shout- 
ing at  him  — and  he  in  the  midst  —  white  as  death  — 
talking  this  strange  nonsense  —  his  voice  floating  in 
a  high  key,  quite  unlike  itself.  At  last  just  as  I  was 
getting  up  to  go  to  him,  I  saw  Bennett  rise.  But  we 
were  both  too  late.     He  fell  at  (mr  feet!" 

JVlarcella  gave  an  involuntary  sob !  "  What  a  horror  I 
she  said,  "  what  a  martyrdom  !  " 

''  It  was  just  that,"  he  answered  in  a  low  voice  — 
"It  was  a  martyrdom.  And  wlien  one  thiidvs  of  the 
way  in  which  for  years  past  he  has  held  these  big 
meetings  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  and  now,  b(>cause 
he  crosses  their  passicm.  their  whim, — no  kindness! 
—  no  patience  —  nothing  but  a  blind  hostile  fury! 
Yet  tJiPi/  tlmught  him  a  traitor,  no  doubt.  Oh!  it  was 
all  a  tragedy  !  " 

There  was  silence  an  instant.     Then  he  n^sumed: 

"We  got  him  into  the  back  room.     Luckily  there 


MAI{('h:iJ,A. 


401 


^f! 


ver  saw, 


waH  a  .lootor  on  ^1  .   ^.]atf..rm.     It  was  hoart  failure,  of 
<"<nirHO,  with  brain  prostration.     Wo  manag.'d  to  get 
him  homo,  mid  .Sii.si<"  Hallin  and   I  sat  up.     [!.>  was 
doliriou.H  all  night;  hut  yest-rday  ho  ralliod,  and  last 
msiit  he  b<'gged  ns  to  move  hiui  out  of  T.ondon  if  v/o 
could.    So  we  got  two  doctors  and  an  invalid  carriage, 
and  by  three  this  afternoon  we  were  all  at  the  (\mv\\ 
My  annt   was  ready  for  him  — his  sister  is  there  — 
and   a  nnrse.     Clarke   was  there  to  meet  hinj.     J  To 
thinks  he  cannot  possibly  live  more  than  a  few  weeks 
-I)ossil,ly  <,ven  a  few  days.     The  shock  an.l  strain 
have  l)een  irreparable." 

Mareella  lay  back  in  her  chair,  struggling  with  her 
grief,  her  head  and  face  turned  away  from  him,  h<"r 
eyy  lH<I<U'n  by  her  handkerchief.  '  Then  in  .some 
mysterious  way  slu!  was  snddcnly  conscious  that  Aldous 
was  no  longer  thinking  <d'  Ilallin.  but  of  hvv. 

"He  Avants  very  nnich  to  si-e  you.'"  he  said,bendin- 
towards  her;  "but  I  know  that  you  have  your.self 
serious  illness  to  nnrse.  Forgive  me  for  not  havin- 
etiqnired  after  Mr.  Hoyce.     I  trnst  he  is  better  ".' '' 

She  sat  up,  red-eyed,  but  mistress  of  herself.  The 
toiK!  had  been  all  gentleness,  but  to  her  (iuiverin<- 
sense  some  slight  indefinable  change  —  coldness  —  hail 
passed  into  it. 

"He  h  better,  thank  y„u_for  the  present.  And 
niy  mother  does  not  let  me  do  very  much.  \\v  have 
a  nurse  too.     When  shall  i  come  '.'"' 

He  rose. 

"Could  you  — coim^  to-morrow  afternoon?  There 
IS  to  be  a  consultation  of  doctors  in  the  morning, 
which  will  tire  him.     About  six?  — t 


vol..     II. 


-2(; 


was  what  he 


w 


402 


MABCELLA. 


m 


m 


ill  I 

1>; 


said.  He  is  very  weak,  but  in  the  day  quite  conscious 
and  rational.  My  aunt  begged  me  to  say  how  glad  she 
would  be  —  " 

He  paused.  An  invincible  awkwardness  took  pos- 
session of  both  of  them.  She  longed  to  speak  to  him 
of  his  grandfather  but  could  not  find  the  courage. 

When  he  was  gone,  she,  standing  alone  in  the  fire- 
light, gave  one  passionate  thought  to  the  fact  that  so  — 
in  this  tragic  way  —  they  had  met  again  in  this  room 
where  he  had  spoken  to  her  his  last  words  as  a  lover ; 
and  then,  steadily,  she  put  everything  out  of  her  mind 
but  her  friend  —  and  death. 


,yi 


CHAPTER  II. 


Mrs.  Boyce  received  Marcel  la's   news  with  more 
sympathy  tlian  her  daughter  had  dared  to  hope  for 
ami  she  made  no  remark  upon  Aldoiis  himself  and  his 
visit,  for  which  Marcella  was  grateful  to  her. 

As  they  left  the  dining-room,  after  their  short 
evening  meal,  to  go  up  to  Mr.  Boyce,  Marcella  de- 
tamed  her  mother  an  instant. 

"Mamma,  will  you  please  not  tell  papa  that  -  that 

Lord  Maxwell  came  iiere  this  afternoon  ?     And  will 

you  explain  to  him  why  I  am  going  there  to-morrow  ^" 

Mrs.  Boyce's  fair  cheek  flushed.     Marcella  saw  that 

she  understood. 

"  If  I  were  you,  I  should  not  let  your  father  talk  to 
you  any  more  about  those  things,"  she  said  with  a 
'•ertain  proud  impatience. 

"  If  I  can  help  it ! "  exclaimed  Marcella.  "  Will  you 
tell  him,  mamma,  — about  Mr.  Hallin?  — and  how 
good  he  has  been  to  me  ?  " 

Then  her  voice  failed  her,  and,  hurriedly  leaving 
iH'r  mother  at  the  top  of  thv  stairs,  she  went  away  by 
herself  to  struggle  with  a,  grief  an.l  smart  almost 
uiihearablc. 

That  night  passed  quietly  ;,i  the  Court.  Ilaljin 
\vns  at  intervals  slightly  delirious,  but  less  so  than  the 
inght  Ixdbro;    an<l  in  the   early  morning   the    younL^ 

403  J        h 


it 


■U        ■! 


■^i  ti 


Tf^ 


404 


MAliCELLA. 


If 


doctor,  wlio  had  sat  up  with  him,  reported  him  to 
Ahlous  as  calmer  and  a  little  stronger.  15ut  the  heart 
mischief  was  hopeless,  and  might  bring  the  bruised 
life  to  an  end  at  any  moment. 

lie  could  not,  however,  be  kept  in  bed,  owing  to 
restlessness  and  difficulty  of  breathing,  and  by  midday 
he  was  in  Aldous's  sitting-room,  drawn  close  to  the 
window,  that  he  might  delight  his  eyes  with  the  wide 
range  of  wood  and  plain  that  it  commanded.  After  a 
very  wet  September,  the  October  days  were  now  fol- 
lowing each  other  in  a  settled  and  sunny  peace.  The 
great  woods  of  the  Chilterns,  just  yellowing  towards 
that  full  golden  moment  — short,  like  all  perfection, 
whi(di  only  beeches  know,  rolled  down  the  hill- 
slopes  to  the  plain,  their  curving  lines  cut  here  and 
there  by  straight  tir  stems,  drawn  clear  and  dark  on 
the  pale  background  of  sky  and  lowland.  In  the  park, 
immediately  lelow  the  window,  groups  of  wild  cherry 
and  of  a  slemh'r-hvived  maple  made  spots  of  ''  flame 
and  amethyst"  on  the  smooth  falling  lawns  ;  the  deer 
wandered  and  fed,  and  the  squirrels  were  playing  and 
feasting  among  the  beech  nuts. 

Since  Aldous  and  his  poor  sister  had  brought  him 
home  from  the  Bethnal  Green  hall  in  which  the  Land 
Reform  Conference  had  been  held,  Hallin  had  spoken 
little,  except  in  delirium,  and  that  little  had  been 
marked  by  deep  and  painful  depression.  But  this 
morning,  when  Aldous  was  summoned  by  the  nurse, 
and  found  him  propped  uj)  by  the  window,  in  front  of 
the  great  view,  he  saw  gracious  signs  of  change. 
Death,  indeed,  already  in  possession,  looked  from  the 
blue  eyes  so  plainly  that  Aldous,  on  his  iirst  entrance. 


MAllCELLA. 


405 


liad  need  of  all  his  own  strength  of  will  to  keep  his 
euniposiire.  But  with  the  certainty  of  that  great 
release,  and  with  the  abandonment  of  all  physical  and 
mental  struc^glo  —  the  struggle  of  a  lifetime —  Hallin 
seeined  to-day  to  have  recovered  something  of  iiis 
characteristic  serenity  and  blitheness— the  temper 
which  h;id  made  him  the  leader  of  his  Oxford  contem- 
poraries, and  the  dear  comrade  of  his  friend's  life. 

When  Aldous  came  in,  Hallin  smiled  and  lifted  a 
feeble  hand  towards  the  park  and  the  woods. 

"  Could  it  have  greeted  me  more  kindly,"  he  said,  in 
his  whispering  voice,  '■  for  the  end  ?  " 

Aldous  sat  down  beside  him,  pressing  his  hand,  and 
there  was  silence  till  Hallin  spoke  again. 
'•  You  will  keep  this  sitting-room,  Aldous  ?  " 
"Always." 

"I  am  glad.  I  have  known  you  in  it  so  long.  What 
good  talks  we  have  had  liere  in  the  old  hot  days  !  I 
was  hot,  at  least,  and  you  bore  with  me.  Land  Re- 
form—Church Reform  — Wages  Reform  — we  have 
threshed  them  all  out  in  this  roo"  \  Do  you  remember 
that  night  I  kept  you  up  till  it  was  too  late  to  go 
to  bed,  talking  over  my'Church  plans  ?  How  full  I 
was  of  it!  — the  Church  that  was  to  be  the  people  — 
reflecting  their  life,  their  differences  — governed  by 
them  — growing  with  them.  You  wouldn't  join  it, 
Aldous  —  our  poor  little  Association ! " 
Aldous's  strong  lip  quivered. 

"  Let  me  think  of  something  I  did  join  in,'"  he  said. 
Halliu's  look  shone  on  him  with  a  wonderful  affec- 
tion. 

"Was  there  anything  else  you  didn't  help  in?     T 


■IF- 


406 


MARCELLA. 


don't  reinembev  it.  I've  dragged  you  into  must  things. 
V^)u  never  minded  failure.  And  1  have  not  had  so 
nnieh  of  it  —  not  till  this  last.  This  has  been  failure 
—  absolute  and  (•omi)lete." 

Hut  there  was  no  darkening  of  expression.  He  sat 
(^luetly  smiling. 

"  Do  you  sup])ose  anybody  who  could  look  beyond 
the  moment  would  dream  of  calling  it  failure  ?  "  said 
Aldous,  with  difHculty. 

Hallin  shook  his  head  gently,  and  was  silent  for  a 
little  time,  gathering  strength  and  breath  again. 

"■I  ought  to  suffer"  —  he  said,  presently.  ''Last 
week  I  dreaded  my  own  feeling  if  I  should  fail  or 
break  down  —  more  than  the  failure  itself.  But  since 
yesterday  —  last  night  —  I  have  no  more  regrets.  I 
see  that  my  power  is  gone  —  that  if  I  were  to  live  I 
could  no  longer  carry  on  the  battle  —  or  my  ohl  life. 
I  am  out  of  touch.  Those  whom  1  love  and  would 
serve,  put  me  aside.  Those  who  invite  me,  I  do  not 
care  to  join.  So  1  drop  —  into  the  gulf  —  and  the 
pageant  rushes  on.  But  the  curious  thing  is  now —  I 
have  no  suffering.  And  as  to  the  future  —  do  you 
remember  Jowett  in  the  Introduction  to  the  Pluedo  — "' 

He  feebly  pointed  to  a  book  beside  him,  which 
Aldous  took  up.     Hallin  guided  him  and  he  read  — 

'•  Most  porsnns  ivhen  the  last  hour  comes  are  resigned 
to  the  order  of  nature  and  the  ivill  of  God.  Tliey  are 
not  thhtlxiiKi  of  Dante's  '  Inferno  '  or  '  Paradiso.''  or  of 
the  '  Pilgrim's  J*rogress.''  Heaven  and  Hell  are  not 
realities  to  them,  hut  words  or  ideas  —  the  outivard 
symbols  of  some  great  mjistenj.  theij  hardly  know  ivhatJ' 

'•It  is  so  with  nic,"  said  Hallin,  smiling,  as,  at  his 


f.i 


MARCELLA. 


407 


st  things. 
it  had  so 
!ii  Tail  u  re 

He  Silt 

i  beyond 
e?"  said 

lent  for  a 
dn, 

.  "  Last 
(1  fail  or 
But  since 
;grets.  I 
to  live  I 

old  life, 
id  would 

I  do  not 

-  and  the 
now  —  1 

—  do  you 
luedo  — '' 
ni,  which 
read  — 

"  resigned 
They  are 
i'.so,'  or  of 
U  are  vot 
outward 
nv  ivhat.'" 
as,  at  his 


gesture,  Aldous  laid  the  book  aside ;  ''  yet  not  quite. 
To  uiy  mind,  that  mystery  indeed  is  all  unknown  and 
•  lark  — but  to  the  lieart  it  .seems  unveiled  —with  the 
heart,  I  see.'' 

A  little  later  Aldous  was  startled  to  hear  liim  say, 
very  clearly  and  (luickly  : 

"  Do  you  remendjer  that  this  is  the  fifth  of  Octo- 
ber?" 

Aldous  drew  Ids  chair  closer,  tliat  he  might  not 
raise  his  voice. 

"  Yes,  Ned." 

"Two  years,  wasn't  it,  to-day?  Will  you  forgive 
me  if  I  speak  of  her  ?  " 

*•'  You  shall  say  anytliing  you  will." 

"  Did  you  notice  that  piece  of  news  I  sent  you,  in 
my  last  letter  to  Geneva?  But  of  course  you  did. 
Did  it  please  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  was  glad  of  it,"  said  Aldous,  after  a  pause, 
-extremely  glad.  I  thought  she  had  escaped  a  great 
danger." 

Hallin  studied  his  face  closely. 

"She  is  free,  Aldo-;.  -and  she  is  a  noble  creature 
—  she  has  learnt  from  life— and  from  death  — this 
last  two  years.  And— you  still  love  her.  Is  it  right 
to  make  no  more  effort  ?  " 

Aldous  saw  the  perspiration  standing  on  the  wasted 
brow  — would  have  given  the  world  to  be  able  to  con- 
tent or  cheer  him  — yet  would  not,  for  the  world,  at 
such  a  moment  l)e  false  to  his  own  feelhig  or  deceive 
his  questioner. 

"I  think  it  is  right,"  he  said  deliberately,  "  —  for 
a  good  many  reasons,  Edward.     In  the  lirst  place  1 


408 


M  MICELLA. 


i 


havo  not  \\w  smallest  ciuise  —  not  the  rract.ioii  oi'  a. 
cause  —  U)  supituse  that  1  could  occujjy  with  lier  Jiow 
any  other  ground  than  that  1  ocrupied  two  years  ago. 
She  has  been  kind  and   Iricndly  l<»  mk^  —  on  the  whole 

—  since  we  met  in  London.  She  has  tncn  ex])ressed 
regret  for  last  year — meaning,  of  course,  as  I  under- 
stood, for  the  pain  and  trouble  that  nuiy  be  said  to 
have  eonu'  from  her  not  knowing  her  own  mind.  She 
Avished  that  we  shouhl  be  friends.  And  "'  —  he  turned 
his  head  a^\ay  —  "no  (h)ubt  I  couhl  l)e,  in  time.  .  .  . 
But.  you  stH>  —  in  all  that,  there  is  nothing  whatever 
to  bring  me  iVn-ward  again.  My  fatal  mistake  last 
year.  1  tliink  lutw,  lay  in  my  accei)ting  what  she  gave 
me  —  accepting  it  so  readily,  so  graspingly  even. 
That  was  my  fault,  my  blimlness,  and — it  was  as 
unjust  to  her  —  as  it  was  hopeless  for  myscdf.  For 
hers  is  a  nature  "  — his  eyes  came  back  to  his  friend  : 
iiis  voice  took  a  new-  force  and  energy  —  "  which,  in 
love  at  any  rate,  will  give  all  or  nothing  —  and  will 
never  be  happy  itself,  or  bring  happiness,  till  it  gives 
all.  That  is  what  last  year  taught  nie.  So  that  even 
if  she  —  out  of  kindness  or  remorse  for  giving  pain  — 
■were  willing  to  renew  the  old  tie  —  I  should  be  her 
worst  enemy  and  my  owui  if  I  took  a  singk  step 
towards  it.  Marriage  on  such  terms  as  I  was  thankful 
for  last  year,  would  be  humiliation  to  me,  and  bring 
no  gain  to  her.     It  will  never  serve  a  man  with  her  '" 

—  his  voice  broke  into  emotion  —  "that  he  shouhl 
make  no  claims  I  Let  him  claim  the  uttermost  far- 
thing—  her  whole  self.  If  she  gives  it,  ^/ien  he  may 
know  what  love  means ! " 

Halliu   had   listened,   intentlv.      At   Aldous's    lasr 


MAkCKLLA. 


409 


;vor(ls  his  ('Xf,re.s-,iori  showrd  pain  and  perj,lexitv. 
His  i/iind  was  full  of  vaj,nie  inif^rf^s.sion.s,  mf;morif>s. 
whioh  H(;ernfHl  to  ai-uo  uir.h  and  di.putf.-  one  of  tl./- 
chief  thin;,'s  Aidou.s  liad  bf.'f;n  saving;,  ij.jt  they  Wf.-ie 
not  definite  enough  to  be  put  fonvard.  His  sf^nsitivf 
chivalrous  sense,  even  in  this  extreme  weakness 
remembered  the  tragic  weight  t.h;,t  attaelies  ir.evitably 
to  dying  words.  Let  bin.  not  do  more  harm  than 
good. 

He  rested  a  little.  -Ih^y  brought  him  food:  and 
Aldous  sat  beside  him  making  pretence  to  read,  so  that 
he  might  be  encouraged  to  rest.  His  sister  can,e  and 
went;  so  did  the  doctor,  iiut  when  thev  were  once 
more  alone,  Hallin  put  out  his  han.l  and  "touched  Ins 
companion. 

••  What  is  it,  dear  Xed ':  " 

••  <Hily  one  thing  more,  bf^fore  we  leave  it.  Is  that 
all  that  stands  between  you  now  — the  whole  •/  Von 
.poke  to  me  once  in  the  summer  of  feeling  angry,  more 
angr}-  than  you  could  have  believed.  <jf  cour.-^.  I  leit 
the  same.  But  just  r^ow  you  sp  'ke  of  its  all"  being 
vour    fault.      Is    there    anything    changed    in    vour 

...IT    1  '^  **  ^  ' 

Aldous  hesitated.  It  was  extraMrdinarilv  T^  .iriful  to 
..-:a  to  sp.^ak  of  the  past,  and  it  t:..-:i.:^,L  i.:L  that  at 
■^  :h  a  moment  it  should  trouble  Hallin. 

•■  There  is  nothing  changed.  Xed.  except  tliar  |>er- 
..i.ps  time  makes  some  ditferenee  alwavs.  I  d^n't  want 
..w-'-he  tried  to  smile --as  I  did  then,  to  make 
anyo,3dy  else  suffer  for  my  suiiering.  But  i:^rhaps  I 
^rvel  even  more  than  I  did  at  rii-^t,  t>:.at  — that  — 
^^-?  eouid  have  allowed  some  things  to  happen  as  she 


i 


■fff 


^!      J 


410 


MAHCELLA. 


The  tone  was  tinii  uiul  vibrating';  ;iii(l.  in  ,s|)eiikiiii;. 
t  he  wliole  faee  had  (Uweloped  a  stroii«4-  aiiiniation  most, 
piissionate  and  lunna.n, 

Hallin  sit^lnHl. 

"I  often  think."  lie  said,  "tliat  she  was  extraordi- 
narily iminatnre  —  nnich  more  imniatnre  than  most 
girls  of  that  age  —  as  to  feeling,  it  was  really  the 
brain  that  was  alive." 

Aldons  silently  assented;  so  mueh  so  that  Hallin 
re])ented  himself. 

"But  not  now,''  he  said,  in  his  eager  dying  whisper ; 
'•  not  now.  The  plant  is  growing  full  and  tall,  into 
the  richest  life." 

Aldou.s  took  the  wasted  hand  tenderly  in  his  own. 
There  ,vas  something  inexpressibly  touching  in  this 
last  wrestle  of  Hallin's  affection  with  another's  grief. 
But  it  filled  . ■  Idous  with  a  kind  of  remorse,  and  with 
the  longing  to  free  him  from  that,  as  from  every  other 
burden,  in  these  last  precious  hours  of  life.  And  at 
last  he  succeeded,  as  he  thought,  in  drawing  his  mind 
away  from  it.  They  passed  to  other  things.  Hallin. 
indeed,  talked  very  little  more  during  the  day.  He 
was  very  restless  and  weak,  but  not  in  much  positive 
suffering.  Aldous  read  to  him  at  intervals,  from 
Isaiah  or  Plato,  the  bright  sleejiless  eyes  following 
every  Avord. 

At  last  the  light  began  to  sink.  The  sunset  flooded 
in  from  the  Berkshire  uplands  and  the  far  Oxford 
plain,  and  lay  in  gold  and  purple  on  the  falling  woods 
and  the  green  stretches  of  the  ]xirk.  The  distant 
edges  of  hill  Avere  extraordinarily  luminous  and  clear. 
and  Aldous,  looking  into  the  west  with  the  eye  of  ou'' 


MAIiCELLA. 


411 


;hat  Hallin 


towl.om  every  si,ot  and  Ih,,.  u,..v  rau.ili.r  lan.lniarks 
<-oul.|  almost  l;incy  l.e  saw  iM-yond  tlu,  invisihl..  riv.-r 
the  lull,  the  -lovftly  troc  ;,Kuinst  th.'  vvfs?,..ni  sky" 
whiel,  keep  Cur  ..■ver  tin-  nu'iiiory  or'  (.no  uiti,  whose 
destiny  it  Iiad  often  soeined  to  him  that  Halliri's  ha.l 
something,.  i„  ..ommon.  To  him,  as  to  Thvrsis  the 
same  early  joy,  the  same  -hap,,y  quest,"  "the  same 
••fugitive  and  graeious  light"  lor  guide  and  beaeon, 
that  — 

floes  not  CDine  with  liouses  or  with  gold, 
\Vith  pliice,  witli  Ji.niour  and  a  tlattcring  crJw  ; 

:iad  to  him,  too,  the  same  taske.l  pipe  and  tired  throi.t 
the  same  struggle  with  the  "life  of  men  unblKst."  the 
same  impatient  tryst  with  death. 

The  lovely  lines  ran  dirgp-like  in  his  head,  as  he 
sat,  sunk  in  grief,  beside  his  friend.  Ilallin  .lid  not 
speak;  but  his  eye  took  note  of  overv  ehaii-e  of  lirrht 
of  every  darkening  tone,  as  the  quiet  English  serene 
with  Its  villages,  ehurches,  and  woods,  withdrew  itself 
plane  by  plane  into  the  evening  haze.  His  soul  fol- 
lowed the  quiet  deer,  the  homing  birds,  loosenin- 
Itself  gently  the  while  from  pain  and  from  desire'' 
.■^aymg  farewell  to  country,  to  the  poor,  to  the  work 
ieit  undone,  and  the  ho])es  unrealised  —  to  evervthin.^ 
except  to  love.  '         "^ 

It  had  just  struck  six  when  he  bent  forward  to  the 
H-indow  beneath  which  ran  the  wide  front  terrace. 

'•That  was  her  step!"  he  said,  while  his  face  lit 
up,  "  will  you  bring  her  here  ?  " 

Marcella  rang  the  bell  at  the  Court  with  a  fast 
l>eatiug  heart.     The  old  butler  who  came  gave  what 


li 


Sfii 


412 


MAIUKLLA. 


her  shrinkinj:^  sense  tliouuflit  a  fVirbiddiii^'  answer  to 
her  shy  gre(!tiiig  of  him,  and  led  her  first  into  t!." 
drawinjj^-rooin.  A  small  Jigiiro  in  deej)  black  rose 
from  a  distant  (diair  and  eame  i'orward  stiilly.  jVfai- 
eella  found  herself  shakinj^  hands  with  Aliss  Kaebuni. 

"  Will  you  sit  and  rest  a  little  before  you  ^o  ujt- 
stairs?"   said  that  lady  wMh  earefnl  politeness,  "or 
shall  I  send  word  at  once  ?     He  is  hardly  worse  — 
but  as  ill  as  he  can  be." 

"  I  am  not  the  least  tired,"  said  Marcella,  and 
i\Iiss  R.n'burn  ranLj. 

'•Tell  his  lordship,  ])ieasp,  that  Miss  Uoyce  is  here." 

The  title  jarred  and  hurt  Marcella's  ear.  JJut  she 
had  seareely  time  to  catch  it  before  Aldous  entered,  a 
little  bent,  as  it  seemed  to  her,  ir,:m  his  tall  erectness, 
and  speakino-  with  an  extreme  quietness,  even  monot- 
ony of  manner. 

"  He  is  waiting  for  you  —  will  3'ou  come  at  once  ?" 

He  led  her  up  the  central  staircase  and  along  the 
familiar  passages,  walking  silently  a  little  in  front  of 
her.  They  passed  the  long  line  of  Caroline  and 
Jacobean  pciuraits  in  the  upper  gallery,  till  just  out- 
side his  own  door  Aldous  paused. 

*'  He  ought  not  to  talk  long,"  he  said,  hesitating. 
"  but  you  will  know  —  of  course  —  better  than  any  ol 


us, 


>j 


"  I  will  watch  him,"  she  said,  almost  inaudibly,  and 
he  gently  opened  the  door  and  let  her  pass,  shutting  it 
behind  her. 

The  nurse,  who  was  sitting  beside  her  patient,  gut 
up  as  Marcella  entered,  and  pointed  her  to  a  low  chair 
on  his  further  f-ndp.     Susie  Hallin  rose  too,  and  ki^s^l 


MAIiCKLLA. 


413 


Tnronlla,  fiiid 


:),  and  kisspil 


the  now-oonifr  luirrifdly,  aliscntly,  ns  ithout  a  word.  Irst 
shf  should  sol).  Thfn  sIk;  and  tl.o  nurse  dis,'.|.p.^■,^•d 
tliron-h  an  innfn- door.  TIm'  cvcninj,'  li.^ht  was  still 
lro(dy  admitted;  and  there  were  some  eandlcs.  \',j 
th-  help  (,f  l.oth  she  could  ordy  see  him  indistinetly. 
}5ut  in  her  own  mind,  as  sh  •  s-^  down,  she  det»'nuinr'd 
that  he  had  not  even  days  to  live. 

Yet  as  she  bent  over  him  .she  saw  a  jnayfid  ^deani 
on  the  eavernous  face. 

"  Vou  won't  se(dd  me?"  said  the  ehan,t,'ed  voiee — 
"you  did  warn  me  — y.ni  and  Susie  — out— 1  was 
I'hstinate.     It  was  best  s<j:" 

She  pressed  her  lips  to  Ids  hand  and  was  answered 
by  a  faint  i)rfssure  I'rom  th.'  eold  tinkers. 
••If  I  could  have  ix'en  there!"  she  murmured. 
"Xo  — I  am  thankful  you  were  not.     And  1  must 
not  think  of  it  — or  of  any  troubh-.     Aldous  is  very 
bitter  — but  he  will  take  comfort  by  and  bv—  he  will 
see  it  — and  them  —  more  justly.     Thev  meant  me  no 
unkindnes".     They   were   full   of  an   idea,  as  I  was. 
When  I  came  back  to  myself -first- all  was  despair. 
I  was  in  a  blaidc  horror  of  myself  and  life.    Now  it  has 
-,ne  — I  don't  know  how.     It  is  not  of  my  own  will 
—  some  hand  has  lifted  a  weight.     I  seem  to  float  — 
without  pain.*' 

He  closed  his  eyes,  gathering  strength  again  in  tlu- 
interval,  by  a  strong  effort  of  will  —  calling  up  in  the 
dimming  brain  what  he  harl  to  say.  She  meanwhile 
si'oke  to  him  in  a  low  voice,  mainlv  to  prevent  his 
talking,  telling  him  of  her  father.' of  her  mother's 
strain  of  nursing—  of  herself  —  she  liardlv  knew 


H 


vhat. 
o'A-  grotes(iue  to  be  giving  him  these  little  bits  of 


*•!" 


414 


MATiCELlA. 


I     ^11 


Pi 
It  I' 


U 


•It 


news  about  stnm^crs — -to  liim,  this  liovcnnfj;,  coiisc- 
ciatcd  soul,  oil  tlu^  brink  of  the,  ^Tcat  socrct  I 

In  tlu)  intervals,  while  ho  was  still  silent,  she  could 
not  somotiiues  prevent  the  pulse  of  her  own  life  from 
stirring;.  ITer  eye  wandered  round  t]w  room  — 
Aldous's  raniiliar  room.  There,  on  tlu^  writing-tablr 
with  its  load  of  letters  and  books,  stood  the  photo- 
i^raph  of  Hallin ;  another,  h(>r  own.  used  to  stand 
beside  it;  it  was  solitary  now. 

Otherwise,  all  was  just  as  it  had  been  —  flowers, 
books,  ue\vspa])ers  —  the  signs  of  laniiliar  uecupaiion. 
tlu^  hundriul  small  details  of  character  and  person- 
ality which  in  estrangement  take  to  themselves  such  a 
smarting  significance  for  the  sad  and  craving  heart. 
The  date — the  ainiiversary  —  echoed  in  her  mind. 

Then,  with  a  rush  of  remorseful  pain,  her  thoughts 
came  back  to  the  present  and  to  Hallin.  At  the  same 
moment  she  saw  that  his  eyes  were  open,  and  fixed 
upon  her  with  a  certain  anxiety  and  expectancy.  He 
nuule  a  movement  as  though  to  draw  her  towards  him ; 
and  she  stooped  to  him. 

"  I  feel,"  he  said,  "  as  though  my  strength  were 
leaving  me  fast.  Let  me  ask  you  one  question  — 
because  of  my  love  for  you  —  and  him.  I  have  fan- 
(ded  —  of  late  —  things  were  changed.  Can  you  tell 
me — will  you  V  —  or  is  it  unfair?"  —  the  words  had 
all  their  bright,  natural  intonation —*' Is  your  heart 
—  still  where  it  was?  —  or,  could  you  ever  —  undo 
the  past  —  " 

He  held  her  fast,  grasping  the  hand  she  had  given 
liim  with  unconscious  force.  She  had  looked  up 
startled,  lier  lip  trembling  like  a  child's.     Then  sht 


i 


MARCELLA. 


416 


ennjj^,  (toiisc- 

I't: 

it,   hIh'    CDUllI 

vii  lif((  from 
he  room  — 
Aiitinf:f-t;il)lc 
I  the  plioto- 
cil   to  sliuul 

n  —  flowers, 
'  oooupiitioii. 
aiul  pcrsou- 
t'lvcs  sucli  a 
avin,tf  lunirt. 
ler  iiiiiul. 
ler  thoughts 
At  the  sam(> 
n,  and  fixoil 
L'tancy.  He 
jwards  hiiu ; 

•ength  wpi'O 
question  — 
I  have  f'aii- 
jan  you  tell 
e  words  hail 
3^our  heart 
ever  —  undu 

le  had  given 

k)oked   up 

Then  she 


dropped  lier  head  against  the  anu  of  her  chair,  as 
though  she  eouhl  not  speak. 

He  moved  restlessly,  and  siglied. 

"I  shonld  not,"  he  said  to  himseU';  ''I  should  not 
—  it  was  wrong.     The  dying  are  tyrannous." 

He  even  I.egan  a  word  o"  sweet  ajiology.  Hut  she 
shook  her  head. 

"Don't!"  she  said,  struggling  with  herself;  -dcn't 
say  that:  It  would  do  nie  good  to  speak  —  to 
you  —  " 

An  ex(piisite  smile  dawned  on  Hallin's  fane. 
"  Then  I  "  —  he  said  —  '•  confess  ! " 

A  few  minute's  later  they  were  still  sitting  together. 
She  strongly  wished  to  go;  hut  he  would  not  yet  allow 
it.  His  face  was  full  of  a  mystical  joy~a  living 
taith,  which  must  .somehow  communicate  itself  in  one 
last  sacramental  effort. 

••  How  strange  that  you  —  an     I  —  and  he  —  should 
liave  heen  so  mixed  together  i      ins  (jueer  life.     Now 
r  seem  to  regret  nothing  — J  hope  everything.     One 
more  little   te.iiuiony  let  me  bear!  — the  Ust.      We 
disappea      ue  by  one  —  into  the  dark  —  but  ea.di  may 
throw  his  comrades  —  a  token  —  before  he  goes.     Vou 
hav».  been  in  much  troub].-  of  mind  and  spirit—  I  have 
^p»'n  it.     Take  my  poor  witness.     There  is  one  clue, 
only —goodness  — the   sni-rendered    >rilJ,      Kverv- 
lung  is  there  — all  faith  —  ;dl  religion  —all  hope  for 
'■■h  or    poor.— Whether   \m-   U-A   ohv   wa-   through 
consciously  to  the  Will  —that  ask^  our  will  — matters 
httle.     Aldous  and  f  have  differed  much  on  this  —  in 
words  — never  at  heart!     I  coula  use  words,  symbols 


MARCELLA. 

he  cannot  —  and  they  have  given  me  peace.     But  half 
my  best  life  I  owe  to  him." 

At  this  he  made  a  long  pause — but,  still,  through 
that  weak  grasp,  refusing  to  let  her  go  —  till  all  was 
said.  Day  was  almost  gone ;  the  stars  had  come  out 
over  the  purple  dusk  of  the  park. 

"  That  Will  —  we  reach  —  through  duty  and  pain," 
he  whispered  at  last,  so  faintly  she  could  hardly  hear 
him,  "is  the  root,  the  source.  It  leads  us  in  living  — 
it  —  carries  us  in  death.  But  our  weakness  and 
vagueness  —  want  help  —  want  the  human  life  and 
voice  —  to  lean  on  —  to  drink  from.  We  Christians 
—  are  orphans  —  without  Christ !  There  again  — 
what  does  it  matter  what  we  think  —  about  him  —  if 
only  we  think — of  him.  In  07ie  sucli  life  are  all 
mysteries,  and  all  knowledge  —  and  our  fathers  have 
chosen  for  us  — '' 

The  insistent  voice  sank  lower  and  lower  into  final 
silence  —  though  the  lips  still  moved.  The  eyelids 
too  fell.  Miss  Halliu  and  the  nurse  came  in.  M;iv- 
cella  rose  and  stood  for  one  passionate  instant  look- 
ing down  upon  him.  Then,  with  a  pressure  of  the 
hand  to  the  sister  beside  her,  she  stole  out.  Her 
one  prayer  was  that  she  might  see  and  meet  no  one. 
So  soft  was  her  step  that  even  the  watching  Ahloiis 
did  not  hear  her.  She  lifted  the  heavy  latch  of  the 
outer  door  without  the  smallest  noise,  and  found  her- 
self alone  in  the  starlight. 

After  Marcella  left  him,  Hallin  remained  for  some 
hours  in  what  seemed  to  those  about  him  a  feverish 
trance.     He  did  not  sleep,  but   he   sllO\^•e(l   no   >jii;ii 


w 


MARC  ELL  A. 


n 


417 


of  irsponsive  coiiscno.isness.     In  reality  his  mind  all 
through  was  full  of  the  most  vivid  though  incoherent 
images  and  sensations.     I>.ut  he  could  no  longer  dis 
tmguisli  between   theiu   and   the   figures   and   move- 
ments of  the  real  people  in  his  room.     Each  passed 
into  and  intermingled  with  tlie  other.     In  some  va-ue 
eager  way  he  seemed  all  the  time  to  he  waiting  or 
seeking  for  Aldous.     There  was  the  haunting  impres- 
sion of  some  word  to  say -some  final  thing  to  do - 
winch  would  not  let  hi.u  rest.     But  something  seemed 
always  to  imprison  hini,  to  hold  him  back,  and  the 
veil  between  him  and  the  real  Aldous  watching  beside 
inm  grew  ever  denser. 

At  night  they  made  no  effort  to  move  him  from  the 
couch  and  the  half-sitting  posture  in  which  he  had 
passed  the  day.  Death  bad  come  too  near.  His  sis 
ter  and  Aldous  and  the  young  doctor  who  had  brought 
him  from  London  watched  with  him.  The  curtains 
were  drawn  back  from  both  the  windows,  and  in  the 
clearness  of  the  first  autumnal  frost  a  crescent  moon 
liung  above  the  Avoods,  the  silvery  lawns,  the  plain 

.NTot  long  after  midnight  Hallin  seenie.l  to  himself 
to  wake,  full  of  purpose  and  of  strength.  He  spoke, 
as  he  bought,  to  Aldous,  asking  to  be  alone  with  him 
>ut  Aldous  did  not  move;  that  sad  watching  gaze  of 
lis  showed  no  change.  Then  Hallin  suffered  a  sud- 
den sharp  spasm  of  anguish  and  of  strug-d."  Three 
words  to  say      only  three  words;  but  those  he  must 

?;     ^'  ^^''^^V^'^^""'  ^''-  ^^l'^o''«'«  ^l^»»^b  grief  still  sat 
^notionless.     Then  the  thought  l.apt  in  the   ebbim^ 
sense  -  Speech  is  gone ;   I  shall  speak  no  more  ' "'       " 
it   brought   w-'-'-    --         ■   ' 


'ith   it  a  stab, 


Vol..   II. 


27 


a  quick    revolt.     But 


j;!.f ! 


418 


MARCELLA. 


m 

Hi 


something  checked  both,  and  in  a  final  offering  of  the 
soul,  Hallin  gave  up  his  last  desire. 

What  Aldous  saw  was  only  that  the  dying  man 
opened  his  hand  as  though  it  asked  for  that  of  his 
friend.  He  placed  his  own  within  those  seeking  fin- 
gers, and  Hallin's  latest  movement  —  which  death 
stopped  half-way  —  was  to  raise  it  to  his  lips. 

So  Marcella's  confession  —  made  in  the  abandon- 
ment, the  blind  passionate  trust,  of  a  supreme  moment 
— bore  no  fruit.     It  went  with  Hallin  to  the  grave. 


V 


CHAPTER  III. 

"  I  THINK  I  saw  the  letters  arrive  "  said  Mr«  "R. 
to  her  daughter.     "And  Donm  Af      '™^^'-'^- ^«3^e 
be  signalling  to  us."  ^^arghenta  seems  to 

II  Let  me  go  for  them,  mamma." 

"No,  thank  you,  I  must  go  in." 

And  Mrs.   Bovce   ro<?P    f,-..,..    ^ 

a^  pergola  ot  the  hotel  ganlen,  betw.e  .  b^UmtZ' 
of  geraniums  and  roses  on  either  side 

They  nad  been  sitting  in  the  famous  garden  of  the 
;'app«c.ni  Hotel  at  Amalti.     To  M.reell      Ift   f 
below  the  high  terrace  of  the  louTa^  I        '  '"f 
-ure  Of  the  Salernian  gulf  sh  n    a    1      Ifdl  X 

f  .^.a  seLi?tt::^:-t— ^^^^^^^^^ 

nnrcssus.     From  the  earth  under  the    eat  "ah 

^.t  hand  were  f„1,  „'.  l' '!',..'! "  ."''™^  ■■""'  ""^^  "■-^e 

^^oices  of  trarde 


and  children, 


"^i  ^>''"k*'n  here  and  there  by  cloud 


410 


ners 
Is  of 


i  f 


420 


MARCELLA. 


S;-i 


pink  almond-blossom.      March  had  just  begun,  and 
the  afternoons  were  fast  lengthening.     It  was  little 
more  than  a  fortnight  since  Mr.  ]-5oyce's  death.     In 
the  Novendx'r  of  the  preceding  year  Mrs.  Boyce  and 
Marcella  had  brought  him  to  Naples  by  sea,  and  there, 
at  a  little  villa  on  Posilippo,  he  had  drawn  sadly  to 
his   end.     It   had   been  a  dreary  time,  from  which 
Marcella  could  hardly  hope  that  her  mother  would 
ever  fully  recover.     She  herself  had  found  in  the  long 
months  of  nursing  —  nursing  of   which,  with  quiet 
tenacity,  she  had  gradually  claimed  and  obtained  her 
full  share  —  a  deep  moral  consolation.     They  had  paid 
certain   debts  to  conscience,  and  they  had  for  ever 
enshrined  her  father's  memory  in  the  silence  of  an 
unmeasured  and  loving  i)ity. 

But  the  wife  ?  Marcella  sorely  recognised  that  to 
her  mother  these  last  days  had  brought  none  of  the 
soothing,  reconciling  influences  they  had  involved  for 
herself.  Between  the  husband  and  wife  there  had 
been  dumb  friction  and  niiseiy  —  surely  also  a  pas- 
sionate affection!  — to  the  end.  The  invalid's  depend- 
ence on  her  had  been  abject,  her  devotion  wonderful. 
Yet,  in  her  close  contact  with  them,  the  daughter  had 
never  been  able  to  ignore  the  existence  between  them 
of  a  Avretched  Jiough  tacit  debate  —  reproach  on  his 
sid(>,  self-defence  or  spasmodic  effort  on  hers  — whieli 
seemed  to  have  its  origin  deep  in  the  past,  yet  to  he 
stimulated  afresh  by  a  hundred  passing  incidents  of 
the  present.  Under  the  blight  of  it,  as  under  the 
physical  strain  of  nursing,  Mrs.  Boyce  had  worn  and 
dwindled  to  a  white-haired  shadow;  while  he  had 
l)ot!i  clung  to  life  and  feared  death  more  than  would 


MA  lie  ELLA. 


421 


normally  Juive  been  the  case.  At  the  end  he  had 
(lied  m  her  arms,  his  head  on  lier  l)ref.st;  she  had 
closed  his  eyes  and  performed  every  last  office  with- 
out a  tear;  nor  had  Marcella  ever  seen  her  weep  from 
then  till  now.  The  letters  she  had  received,  mostly 
Marcella  believed,  from  her  own  family,  remained 
unopened  in  her  travelling-bag.  She  spoke  very  little, 
and  was  constantly  restless,  nor  could  Marcella  as  yet 
form  any  idea  of  the  future. 

After  the  funeral  at  Naples  Mrs.  Boyce  liad  written 
nnmeduitely  to  her  husband's  solicitor  for  a  copy  of 
Ins  will  and  a  statement  of  affairs.  She  hud  then 
allowed  herself  to  be  carried  oft'  to  Amalfi,  and  had 
there,  while  entirely  declining  to  admit  tliat  she  was 
111,  been  clearly  doing  her  best  to  recover  health  and 
nerve  sufficient  to  come  to  some  decision,  to  grapple 
with  some  crisis  which  Murcella  also  felt  to  be  im- 
pending—though  as  to  why  it  should  be  impending 
or  what  the  nature  of  it  might  be,  she  could  only  dreacl 
and  guess. 

There  was  much  bitter  yearning  in  the  girl's  heart 
as  she  sat,  breathed  on  by  the  soft  Italian  wind  blowin- 
tn,m  this  enchanted  sea.     The  inner  cry  was  that  her 
mother  did  not  love  her,  had  never  loved  her,  and  mi-l.t 
even  now-weird,  incredible  thought !  -be  planning' to 
^l<".sert  her.    Hallin  was  dead-who  else  was  there  that 
caredfor  heror  thought  of  her''  IJetty  Macdonald  wrote 
often,  wild,  "  sclncarmensch  "  letters.     Marcella  looke<l 
tor  them  with  eageriiess,  and  answ(n'ed  them  affection- 
ately     But  Betty  must  soon  marry,  and  then  all  that 
)vould  be  at  an  end.     Meanwliile  Marcella  knew  well 
It  was  Betty's  news  that  made  Betty's  adoration  doubly 


I 


422 


MARCELLA. 


m 


■% 


1 

1 

i' 

i  i 

r 

^ 

dik.j 

\ 

1 

welcome.  Aldoiis  Raeburn  —  she  never  did  or  could 
think  of  him  under  his  new  name  —  was  apparently  in 
London,  much  occupied  in  politics,  and  constantly,  as 
it  seemed,  in  Betty's  society.  What  likelihood  was 
there  that  her  life  and  his  would  ever  toucih  again? 
She  thought  often  of  her  confession  to  Hallin,  but  in 
great  perplexity  of  feeling.  She  had,  of  course,  said 
no  word  of  secrecy  to  him  at  the  time.  Such  a  demand 
in  a  man's  last  hour  would  have  been  impossible.  She 
had  simply  followed  a  certain  mystical  love  and  obe- 
dience in  telling  him  what  he  asked  to  know,  and  in 
the  strong  spontaneous  impulse  had  thought  of  nothing 
beyond.  Afterwards  her  pride  had  suffered  fresh 
martyrdom.  Could  he,  with  his  loving  instinct,  have 
failed  to  give  his  friend  some  sign?  If  so,  it  had 
been  unwelcome,  for  since  the  day  of  Hallin's  funeral 
she  and  Aldous  had  been  more  complet(>-  strangers  than 
before.  Lady  Winterbourne,  Betty,  Frank  Leven, 
had  written  since  her  father's  death ;  but  from  him, 
nothing. 

By  the  way,  Frank  Leven  had  succeeded  at  Christ- 
mas, by  old  Sir  Charles  Leven's  unexpected  death,  to 
the  binonetcy  and  estates.  How  would  that  affect  his 
chan  .  with  Betty  ?  —  if  indeed  there  were  any  such 
chances  left. 

As  to  her  own  immediate  future,  Marcella  knew  from 
many  indications  that  IVIellor  would  be  hers  at  once. 
But  in  her  general  tiredness  of  mind  and  body  she  was 
far  more  conscious  of  the  burden  of  her  inheritance 
than  of  its  opportunities.  All  that  vivid  castle-build- 
ing gift  which  was  specially  hers,  and  would  revive, 
was  at  present  in  abeyance.     She  had  pined  once  fur 


MAiiCELLA. 


423 


id  or  could 
•parently  in 
istantly,  as 
lihood  was 
iicli  again? 
bllin,  but  in 
course,  said 
h  a  demand 
3sible.  She 
VG  and  obe- 
10 w,  and  in 
t  of  nothing' 
?ered  fresli 
stinct,  have 
so,  it  had 
in's  funeral 
fingers  than 
ink  Leven, 
;  from  him, 

I  at  Christ- 
id  death,  to 
it  affect  his 
re  any  such 

knew  from 
!rs  at  once. 
)dy  she  was 
inheritance 
iastle-build- 
uld  revive, 
led  once  fur 


power  and  freedom,  that  she  might  make  a  Kingdom 
of   Heaven  of   her  own,  quickly.     Now  power   and 
freedom,  up  to  a  certain  point,  were  about  to  be  put 
into  her  hands;  and  instead  of  plans  for  acting  largely 
and  bountifully  on  a  plastic  outer  world,  she  was  say- 
ing to  herself,  hungrily,  that  unless  she  had  something 
close  to  her  to  love  and  live  for,  she  could  do  nothing^ 
If  her  mother  would  end  these  unnatural  doubts,  if 
she  would  begin  to  make  friends  with  her  own  daugh- 
ter, and  only  yield  herself  to  be  loved  and  comforted, 
why  then  it  might  be  possible  to  think  of  the  village 
and  the   straw-plaiting!     Otherwise  — the  girl's  atti- 
tude  as   she   sat   dreaming  in   the   sun  showed  her 
despondency. 

She  was  roused  by  her  mother's  voice  calling  her 
from  the  other  end  of  the  j)ergola. 
"Yes,  mamma." 

"  Will  you  come  in  ?     There  are  some  letters." 
"It  is  the  will,"  thought  Marcella,  as  Mrs.  Hoyce 
turned  back  to  the  hotel,  and  she  followed. 

Mrs.  Boyce  shut  the  door  of  their  sitting-room,  and 
then  went  up  to  her  daughter  with  a  manner  which 
suddenly  struck  and  startled  Marcella.  There  was 
natural  agitation  and  trouble  in  it. 

"There  is  something  in  the  will,  Marcella,  which 
wdl,  I  fear,  annoy  and  distress  you.  Your  father 
inserted  it  without  consulting  me.  I  want  to  know 
what  you  think  ought  to  be  done.  You  will  find  that 
Lord  Maxwell  and  I  have  been  appointed  joint 
executors." 
Marcella  turned  pale. 

^^ord   Maxwell!"    she   said,   bewildered.     '^ Lord 
yiaxwell  —  Aldous  !     What  do  you  mean,  mamma  ?  " 


If; 


rl^Ji: 


m 


424 


MARCELLA. 


i  1| 


Mrs.  Buyce  put  tho  will  into  licr  hands,  and,  point- 
ing the  way  among  the  technicalities  she  had  been 
perusing  while  Mavcella  was  still  lingering  in  the 
garden,  showed  her  the  paragraph  in  question.  The 
words  of  the  will  were  merely  formal :  "  1  hereby 
appoint,"  &c.,  and  no  more;  but  in  a  communication 
from  the  family  solicitor,  Mr.  French,  which  Mrs. 
JJuyce  silently  handed  to  her  daughter  after  she  had 
read  the  legal  disposition,  the  ladies  were  informed 
that  Mr.  Boyce  had,  before  quitting  England,  written 
a  letter  to  Lord  Maxwell,  duly  sealed  and  addressed, 
with  instructions  that  it  should  be  forwarded  to  its 
destination  immediately  after  the  writer's  burial. 
"Those  instructions,"  said  Mr.  French,  "I  have  carried 
out.  I  understand  that  Lord  Maxwell  was  not  con- 
sulted as  to  his  appointment  as  executor  prior  to  the 
drawing  uj)  of  th(^  will.  But  you  will  no  doubt  hear 
from  him  at  once,  and  as  soon  as  we  know  that  he 
consents  to  act,  we  can  proceed  immediately  to 
probate." 

"Mamma,  how  could  he?"  said  Marcella,  in  a  low. 
suffocated  voice,  letting  will  and  letter  fall  upon  her 
knee. 

"  Did  he  give  you  no  warning  in  that  talk  you  had 
with  him  at  Mellor  ? "  said  Mrs.  Boyce,  after  a  mhi- 
ute's  silence. 

"Not  the  least,"  said  Marcella,  rising  restlessly  and 
beginning  to  walk  up  and  down.  "He  spoke  to  me 
about  wishing  to  bring  it  on  again  —  asked  me  to  let 
him  write.  I  told  him  it  was  all  done  with  —  for 
ever!  As  to  my  own  feelings,  I  felt  it  was  no  use 
to  speak  of  th(Mn ;  but  I  tliought  -—  I  believed  1  had 


I'li: 


ii  I 


f! 


MARCELLA. 


425 


1,  and,  ])oiiit- 
10  had  been 
ring  ill  the 
3stion.  The 
"  I  hereby 
niuunication 
which  Mrs. 
t'ter  she  had 
re  informed 
and,  written 
\\  addressed, 
iirded  to  its 
er's  burial, 
have  carried 
/■as  not  con- 
)rior  to  tlie 
)  doubt  hear 
low  that  he 
lediately   to 

hi,  in  a  low. 
ill  upon  her 

alk  you  had 
it'ter  a  iiiin- 

stlessly  and 
si)oke  to  nie 
I  me  to  let 
with  —  for 
was  no  use 
ieved  I  had 


proved  to  liim  that  Lor.l  Maxwell  had  absolutely  giv.-n 
uj)  all  idea  of  sueii  a  thing;  and  that  it  was  already 
l)robal)le  he  would  marry  some  one  else.  I  told  him  I 
would  rather  disappear  from  every  one  I  knew  than 
consent  to  it -he  could  only  humiliate  us  all  l,y  say- 
ing a  word.     And  now,  after  that !  —  " 

She  stopped  in  her  restless  walk,  pressing  her  hands 
miserably  together. 

^'What  does  he  want  with  us  and  our  affairs  ^^" 
she  broke  out.  "He  wishes,  of  course,  to  have  'no 
more  to  do  with  me.  And  now  we  force  him  -force 
him  into  these  intimate  relations.  What  can  i.apr 
have  said  in  that  letter  to  him  ?  What  can  he  have 
said.^  Oh!  it  is  unbearable!  Can't  we  write  at 
once  ?  " 

She  pressed  her  hands  over  her  eyes  in  a  passion  of 
humiliation  and  disgust.  Mrs.  Boyce  watched  her 
closely. 

^'' We  must  wait,  anyway,  for  his  letter,"  she  said, 
it  ought  to  be  here  by  to-morrow  morning  " 
Marcella  sank  on  a  chair  by  an  open  glas's  door,  her 
eyes  wandering,  through  the  straggling  n.ses  growin-^ 
against  the  wall  of  the  stone  bah-ony  outside,  to  the 
laughing  purples  and  greens  of  the  sea 

"  Of  course,"  she  said  unhappily,  '•  it  is  most  proba- 
te he  will  consent.  It  would  not  be  like  him  to 
'■etuse.  But,  mamma,  you  must  write.  /  must  write 
and  beg  him  not  to  do  it.  It  is  quite  simple.  We  can 
.nanage  everything  for  ourselves.  Oh !  how  coukl 
1^1^. ^^Jhe  broke  out   again  in   alow   wail,   <M,ow 

Mrs.  Boyce's  lips  tiglitened  shai-ply.     It  seemed  to 


ii- 


426 


MARC  ELL  A. 


her  a  foolislj  (lucstion.  She,  at  least,  hatl  lia  1  the 
experience  of  twenty  years  out  of  which  to  answer 
it.  Death  had  made  no  difference.  She  saw  her 
husband's  character  and  her  own  seared  and  broken 
life  with  the  same  tragical  clearness;  she  felt  tlic 
same  gnawing  of  an  affection  not  to  be  ^ducked  out 
while  the  heart  still  beat.  This  act  of  indelicacy  and 
injustice  was  like  many  that  had  gone  before  it;  and 
there  was  in  it  the  same  evasion  and  concealment 
towards  herself.  No  mattn-.  She  had  made  her 
account  with  it  all  twenty  years  before.  What  aston- 
ished her  was,  that  the  force  of  her  strong  coercing 
will  had  been  able  to  keep  him  for  so  long  within  the 
limits  of  the  smaller  and  meaner  immoralities  of  this 
world. 

"  Have  you  read  the  rest  of  the  will  ?  "  she  asked, 
after  a  long  pause. 

Marcella  lifted  it  again,  and  began  listlessly  to  go 
through  it. 

"Mamma!"  she  said  presently,  looking  up,  the 
colour  flushing  back  into  her  face,  ''  1  find  no  men- 
tion of  you  in  it  throughout.  There  seems  to  be  no 
provision  for  you." 

"  There  is  none,"  said  Mrs.  Boyce,  quietly.  "  There 
was  no  need.  I  have  my  own  income.  We  lived 
upon  it  for  years  before  your  father  succeeded  to 
Mellor.     It  is  therefore  amply  sufficient  for  me  now.'' 

"You  cannot  imagine,"  cried  Marcella,  tremblini,' 
in  every  limb,  "  that  I  am  going  to  take  the  whole  of 
my  father's  estate,  and  leave  nothing  —  nothing  for  his 
wife.  It  would  be  impossible  —  unseemly.  It  would 
be  to  do  me  an  injustice,  mamma,  as  well  as  yourself;* 
she  added  proudly. 


MARCELLA. 


427 


:i;: 


\i 


No  I  think  not,"  said  Mrs.  Koyeo,  with  her  usual 
cold  absence  of   emotion.     -  You  .h,  not  yet  under- 
stand the  situation.     Your  fatlier's  misfortunes  nearly 
mined  the  estate  for  a  time.     Your  grandfatlier  went 
through  great  troubhs  niid  raised  large  sums  to  —  " 
she  i,aused  for  the  right  i)hrase  _  "  to  free  us  from 
the  consequences  of  your  father's    actions.     I    bene- 
hted,  of  course,  as  much  as  he  did.     Those  sums  crip- 
pled  all  your  grandfather's  old  age.    He  was  a  man  to 
whom  r  was  attached  _  whom   F  respected.     Mellor 
I  believe,  had  never  been  embarrassed  before.     Well' 
your  uncle  did  a  little  towards  recovery  —  but  on  thJ 
whole  he  was  a  fool.     Your  father  has  done  much 
more,  and  you,  no  doubt,  will  complete  it.     As  for  me 
I  have  no  claim  to  anything  more  from  Mellor      The' 
place  itself  is  "-again   she  stopped  for  a  word  of 
which  the   energy,  when  it  came,  seemed  to  escape 
her -"hateful  to  me.     I  shall  feel  freer  if  I  luive 
no  tie  to    t.     And  at  last  I  persuaded  your  father  to 
let  me  have  my  way." 

Marcella  rose  from  her  seat  impetuously,  walked 
quickly  across  the  room,  and  threw  herself  on  her 
knees  beside  her  mother. 

"Mamma,  are  you  still  determined  -  now  that  we 
wo  are  alone  in  the  world -to  act  towards  me,  to 
treat  me  as  though  I  were  not  your  daughter- not 
your  child  at  all,  but  a  stranger  ?  " 

It  was  a  cry  of  anguish,  "a  sudden  slight  tremor 
swept  over  Mrs.  Boyce's  thin  and  withered  face.  She 
braced  herself  to  the  inevitable. 

s,i7-v".1  ^"\"'"  /?^^"  ''^^'^^  «^  ^*'  "^3^  dear,"  she 
f'aia,  ,utli  a  iignt  touch  wu  Marcella's  hands.     "Let 


428 


mahcella. 


PI 

11     "I 
I'f. 


{.H 


I 


us  (liscuas  it  reasonably.  Won't  you  sit  down  ?  I  am 
not  proposing  :iiiytliing  very  dreadful.  Jiut,  like  you, 
I  have  some  interests  of  my  own,  and  I  should  be 
glad  to  follow  them  —  now  —  a  little.  1  wish  to  spend 
some  of  the  year  in  London ;  to  make  that,  perhaps, 
my  headquarters,  so  as  to  see  something  of  some  old 
friends  whom  T  have  had  no  intercourse  with  for  years 
—  perhaps  also  of  my  relations."  She  spoke  of  them 
with  a  paiticular  dryness.  "And  I  should  be  glad  — 
after  this  loni,'  time — to  be  somewhat  taken  out  of 
oneself,  to  read,  to  hear  what  is  going  ou,  to  feed 
one's  mind  a  little." 

Marcella,  looking  at  her,  saw  a  kind  of  feverish  light, 
a  sparkling  intensity  in  tlie  pale  blue  eyes,  that  filled 
her  with  amazement.  What,  after  all,  did  she  know 
of  this  strange  individuality  from  which  her  own  being 
had  taken  its  rise?  The  same  flesh  and  blood  —  what 
an  irony  of  nature  ! 

"Of  course,"  continued  Mrs.  Boyce,  "I  should  go 
to  you,  and  you  would  come  to  me.  It  would  only  be 
for  part  of  the  year.  Probably  we  should  get  more 
from  each  other's  lives  so.  As  you  know,  I  long  to 
see  things  as  they  are,  not  conventionally.  A.  yway, 
whether  I  were  there  or  no,  you  would  probably  want 
some  companion  to  help  you  in  your  work  and  plans. 
1  am  not  fit  for  them.  And  it  would  be  easy  to  find 
some  one  who  could  act  as  chaperon  in  my  absence." 

The  hot  tears  sprang  to  Marcella's  eyes.  "  Why 
did  you  send  me  away  from  you,  nuimnia,  all  my 
childhood,"  she  cried.  "It  was  Avrong  —  cruel.  1 
have  no  brother  or  sister.  And  you  jmt  me  out  of 
your  life  when  1  had  no  choice,  when  I  was  too  young 
to  understand." 


♦(i 


MARCEL  LA. 


429 


Mrs.   Uoyco  wiiiml,  but  nuulc  no  reply.      She  sat 
with  hor  dt'licatc  Imnd  across  lier  brow.     She  was  the 
white  shadow  of  her  tornHU'  self;  but  her  fragility  had 
always  s.-enied  to    Maroella  more    indomitable    than 
anybody  rise's  strength. 
Sobs  began  to  rise  in  Mareella's  throat. 
"And  now,"  she  said,  iji  half-coherent  despair,  -do 
you  know  what  you  are  doing  ?    Yon  are  cutting  yo.ir- 
HelfofTfromme-refnsing  to  have  any  real  bun. I  fo 
me  just  when  \  want  it  most.     I  suppose  you  thi,d< 
that   r   shall   be  satisfiL-d  with   the  property  and   the 
power,  and  the  Huince  of  doing  what  I  like.'    But  "  — 
^he  tried  ha-  bes.  :o  gulp  back  her  pain,  her  outraged 
teehng,  to  sp-ak  cpt;etly  —  "  T  am  not  like  that  roally 
any    more,     i   can  take  it  all  up,  with  courage  and 
hvnvt,  if  you  '    li  stay  with  me,  and  let  me  —  let  me  — 
love  you  and  care  for  you.     Rut,  by  myself,  I  feel  as 
if  r  could  not  face  it !    I  am  not  likely  to  be  happy  — 
for  a  long  time  — except  in  doing  what  work  I  can 
It  IS  very  improbable  that  I  shall  marry.     J  dare  say 
you  don't  believe  me,  but  it  is  true.     We  are  both  sad 
and  lonely.     We  have  no  one  but  each  other.     And 
then  you  talk  in  this  ghastly  way  of  separating  from 
me  — easting  me  off." 

Her  voice  trembled  and  broke,  she  looked  at  her 
mother  with  a  frowning  passion. 

Mrs.  Boyce  still  sat  silent,  studying  her  daughter 
with  a  strange,  brooding  eye.  Under  her  unnatural 
composure  there  was  in  reality  a  half-mad  impatience, 
the  result  of  physical  and  moral  reaction.  This 
beauty,  this  youth,  talk  of  sadness,  of  finality !     What 


folly!     «! ill,  she 
herself. 


Wiis  .-jtuTed,  undermined  in  spite  of 


430 


MARC  ELLA. 


i  I 


-r" 


"  There  ! "  she  said,  with  a  restless  gesture,  "  let  us, 
please,  talk  of  it  no  more.     I  will  come  back  with  you 

—  I  will  do  my  best.  We  will  let  the  matter  of  my 
future  settlement  alone  for  some  months,  at  any  rate, 
if  that  will  satisfy  you  or  be  any  help  to  you." 

She  made  a  nKwement  as  though  to  rise  from  her 
low  chair.     But  the  groat  waters  swelled  in  Marcella 

—  swelled  and  broke.  She  fell  on  her  knees  again  by 
her  mother,  and  before  Mrs.  Boyce  could  stop  her  she 
had  thrown  her  young  arms  close  round  the  thin, 
shrunken  form. 

"  Mother ! "  she  said.  "  Mother,  be  good  to  me  — 
love  me  —  you  are  all  I  have  !  " 

And  she  kissed  the  pale  brow  and  check  with  a 
hungry,  almost  a  violent  tenderness  that  would  not  be 
gainsaid,  murmuring  wild  incoherent  things. 

Mrs.  Boyce  first  tried  to  put  her  away,  then  sub- 
mitted, being  physically  unable  to  resist,  and  at  last 
escaped  from  her  with  a  sudden  sob  that  went  to  the 
girl's  heart.  She  rose,  went  to  the  window,  struggled 
hard  for  composure,  and  finally  left  the  room. 

But  that  evening,  for  the  first  time,  she  let  Marcella 
put  her  on  the  sofa,  tend  her,  and  read  to  her.  More 
wonderful  still,  she  went  to  sleep  while  Marcella  was 
reading.  In  the  lamplight  her  face  looked  piteously 
old  and  worn.  The  girl  sat  for  long  with  her  hands 
clasped  round  her  knees,  gazing  down  upon  it,  in  a 
trance  of  pain  and  longing. 


Maroolla  was  awake  early  next  morning,  listening 
to  the  full  voice  of  the  sea  as  it  broke  three  hundred 
feet  below,  against  tlie  beach  and  rocky  walls  of  the 


MAR  CELL  A. 


431 


m 


little  town.  She  was  lying  in  a  tiny  white  room, 
one  of  the  cells  of  the  old  monastery,  and  the  sun  as 
it  rose  above  the  Salernian  mountains  —  the  moun- 
tains that  hold  Paestum  in  their  blue  and  purple 
shadows  — danced  in  gold  on  the  white  wall.  The 
bell  of  the  cathedral  far  below  tolled  the  hour.  She 
supposed  it  must  be  six  o'clock.  Two  hours  more  or 
so,  and  Lord  Maxwell's  letter  might  be  looked  for. 

She  lay  and  thought  of  it  —  longed  foi-  it,  and  for 
the  time  of  answering  it,  with  the  same  soreness  that 
had  marked  all  the  dreams  of  a  restless  night.     If  she 
could  only  see  her  father's  letter !     It  was  inconceiva- 
ble that  he  should  have  mentioned  her  name  in  his 
plea.     He  might  have  appealed  to  the  old  friendshiij 
between  the  families.     That  was  possible,  and  would 
have,  at  any  rate,  an  appearance  of  decency.     But  who 
could  answer  for  it  — or  for  him?     She  clasped  Her 
hands  rigidly  behind  her  head,  her  brows  frowning, 
bending  her  mind  with  an  intensity  of  will  to  the  best 
means  of  assuring  Aldous  Raeburn  that  she  and  her 
mother  would  not  encroach  upon  him.      She  had  a 
perpetual  morbid   vision  of  herself  as  the  pursuer, 
attacking  him  now  through  his  friend,  now  throuo-h 
her  father.     Oh !    when  would  that  letter  come,  and 
let  her  write  her  own ! 

She  tried  to  read,  but  in  reality  listened  for  every 
sound  of  awakening  life  in  the  hotel.     When  at  last 
her  mother's  maid  came  in  to  call  her,  she  sprang  up 
with  a  start. 
"  Deacon,  are  the  letters  come  ?  " 

"There  are  two  for  your  mother,  miss;  none  for 
you." 


432 


MARCELLA. 


If 


1 

:  (-■ 

li 

I  I. 

Hi 


Marcella  threw  on  hor  dressing-gown,  watched  her 
opportunity,  and  slipi)ed  in  to  her  mother,  who  oc- 
cupied a  similar  cell  next  door. 

Mrs.  Boyee  was  sitting  up  in  bed,  with  a  letter 
before  her,  her  pale  blue  eyes  tixed  absently  on  the  far 
stretch  of  sea. 

She  looked  round  with  a  start  as  Marcella  entered. 
•'  The  letter  is  to  me,  of  course,"  she  said. 

jMarcella  read  it  breathlessly. 

'<Dear  Mrs.  Boyce,  —  I  have  this  morning  received 
from  your  solicitor,  Mr.  French,  a  letter  written  by 
Mx.  l)oyce  to  myself  in  November  of  last  year.  In 
it  he  asks  me  to  undertake  the  office  of  executor,  to 
which,  I  hoar  from  Mr.  French,  he  has  named  me  in 
his  will.  Mr.  French  also  enquires  whether  I  shall 
be  willing  to  act,  and  asks  me  to  communicate  with 
you. 

"May  I,  then,  venture  to  intrude  upon  you  with 
these  few  words  ?  Mr.  Boyce  refers  in  his  touching 
letter  to  the  old  friendship  between  our  families,  and 
to  the  fact  that  similar  offices  have  often  been  per- 
formed by  his  relations  for  mine,  or  vice  versd.  But 
no  reminder  of  the  kind  was  in  the  least  needed.  If  I 
can  be  of  any  service  to  yourself  and  to  Miss  Boyce, 
neither  your  poor  husband  nor  you  could  do  me  any 
greater  kindness  than  to  command  me. 

"  1  feel  naturally  some  diffidence  in  the  matter.  I 
gather  from  Mr.  French  that  Miss  Bovce  is  her  fathers 
heiress,  and  comes  at  once  into  th(  jjossession  of  Mel- 
lor.  She  may  not,  of  course,  wish  me  to  act,  in  which 
case  I  should  withdraw  immediately  ;  but  I  sincerely 
trust  that  she  will  not  forbid  nie  the  very  small  ser- 
vice I  could  so  easily  and  gladly  render. 


MARC  ELL  A. 


433 


"  I  cannot  (tlose   my    letter    without   venturing   to 
express  tlie  deep  sympathy  I  liave  felt  for  you  and 
yours  during  the  past  six  months.     I  have  been  far 
from  forgetful  of  all  that  you  have  been  going  throu-h 
though  I  may  have  seemed  so.     I  trust  that  you  ami 
your  daughter  will  not  hurry  home  for  any  business 
cause,  If  It  is  still  best  for  your  health  to  stay  in  Ttalv 
W  ith  your  instructions  Mr.  French  and  I  could  arran-^e 
everything.  ° 

"Believe  me, 

"Yours  most  sincerelv. 

"Maxwell." 

''You  will  find  it  .lifficult,  my  dear,  to  write  a  snub 
■n  answer  to  that  lett.iy"  said  Mrs.  Boyce,  drily,  as 
.^Farcella  laid  it  down. 

Marcella's  face  was,  indeed,  crimson  with  perplexitv 
and  foeling.  *^ 

•■Well,  we  can  think  it  over,"  she  said  as  she  went 

away. 

^rrs.  Boyce  pondered  the  matter  a  good  deal  when 

sh.  was  left  alone.     The  signs  of  reaction  and  clian-e 

in  Marcella  were  plain  enough.     What  thev  preeiselv 

meant,  and  how  much,  was  another   matter.      \s  to 

I'lni,  Marcella's  idea  of  another  attachment  might  be 

true,  or   might    be  me-.-ely  the  creation    of  her  own 

HTitable  pride.     Anyway,  ho  was  in  the  mood  to  write 

a  charming  letter.     Mrs.  Boyce's  blanched  lip  had  all 

Its  natural  irony  as  she  thouglit  it  over.     To  her  mind 

AMous  Raeburn's  manners  had  alwavs  been  a  trifle  too 

,^ood   whether  for  his  own  interests  or  for  this  wicke.l 

^'"rld.     And  if  he  liad  any  idea  now  of  trying  a^^ain 
V(»[..  II. 28  "^      o     o        > 


•S: 


434 


MAliC.'LLA. 


let  him,  for  Heaven's  sake,  not  be  too  yielding  or  too 
eaj^'er !  "  It  was  always  the  way,"  thonght  :\rrs.  Boyee, 
remembering  a  c;hild  in  white  I'rook  and  baby  shoes  — 
"if  you  Avished  to  make  lier  want  anything,  yon  had 
to  take  it  away  from  her." 

Meanwhile   the  mere  thought  that  matters  might 
even  yet  so  settle  tlieniselves  drew  from  the  mother  a 
long  breath  of  relief.     She  had  spent  an  all  but  sleep- 
less night,  tormented  by  Marcella's  claim  upon   her. 
After  twenty  years  of  self-suppression  this  woman  of 
forty-live,  naturally  able,  original,  and  independent, 
had  seen  a  glimpse  of  liberty.     In  lier  first  youth  she 
had  been  betrayed  as  a  wife,  degraded  as  a  member  of 
society.     A  passion  she  could  not  kill,  combined  with 
some  stoical  sense  of  inalienable  obligation,  had  com- 
bined to  make  her  both  the  slave  and  guardian  of  her 
husband  up  to  middle  life  ;  and  her  family  and  personal 
pride,  so  strong  in  her  as  a  girl,  had  found  its  only  out- 
let in   this   singular  estrangement  she  had  achieved 
between  herself  and  every  other  living  being,  including 
her  own  daughter.     Now  her  husband  was  dead,  and 
all  sorts  of  crushed  powers  and  desires,  mostly  of  tlie 
intellectual  sort,  had  been  strangely  reviving  within 
her.     Just  emerged,  as  she  was,  from  the  long  gloom 
of  nursing,  she  already  wished  to  throw  it  all  behind 
her  —  to  travel,  to  read,  to  make  acquaintances  —  she 
who  had  lived  as  a  recluse  for  twenty  years  !     There 
was  in   it  a  last  clutch  at  youtli,  ao  life.     And  she 
had  no  desire  to  enter  upon  this  new  existence  — in 
comradeship  with  Marcella.     They  were  independent 
and   very  different   human  beings.     That  they  were 
mother  and  'laughter  was  a  mere  physical  accident. 


MAIWELLA. 


485 


» 


MoroovcT,  tl.ough  sl,o  ,v„s  nm|,lv  conscious  of  tl.c 
fine  development  in  Mareella  .Innn?  tl,o   ,«st  two 
yea..,  ,t  .s  pvoLable  that  she  felt  her  dan.l     .  eve, 
less  congenial  to  he-  now  than  of  old.     l-W  the  rich 

v.ct,on,    had  turned  in  the  broad  sense  to  "  religion  " 

death,  to  the  sp.ntnal  things  and  symbols  iu  the  worhl 

m  tW tn     "    "' ''";'""'  •='"'™''^^  ■'  "="1  -H  as  hi: 
mother  knew,  many  religious  books. 

histo.y.     She  had  begun  life  as  an  ardent  Cl.ristim 
under  evangelical  iuHuences.     Her  husban"         he 
0  her  hand,  at  the  time  she  married  l.in,  wa    a  n  a, 

M.U  and  Comte,  and  lon.l  of  an  easy  profanity  which 
eemed  to  place  him  indisputably  wiJh  the  supe   or 

f  Im   ir  en.ls,  Evelyn    Merritt  had  not  been  three 
muvths  h,s  wife  before  she  had  a,lopted  his  opinion. 

6fcc,  and  was  carrying  them  out  to  their  logical  em 
vith  a  sincenty  and  devotion  quite  unknown  to  her 
t  acher.     Thenceforward  her  conception  of  thill 
"(winch,   however,   she    seldom    spoke -ha.l    been 
actively  and  even  vehemently  rationalist ;  and  it  1, 
e.n  one  o    the  chief  sorenesses  and  shLnies  o    he 
'fe  at  Mellor  that,  in  order  to  suit  his  pcsitiou  Is 
'".try  squire,  Richard  Hoyee  had  sunk  \o  wha  . 
cr  eyes,  were    a   hundred   mean    compliances    wi 
"■nigs  orthodox  and  established 

™'':'l'l'"';"'"'"'''\'-'-'«"'^lb'l.rokc.n 


irom  Jier,  and  his 


own 


iway 


past.     -Ev^elyn,  [  .should  like 


436 


MAIiCELLA. 


.ir- 


Ms 


to  see  a  clergyman,"  he  had  said  to  her  in  his  piteous 
voice,  "  and  I  shall  ask  him  to  give  me  the  Sacrament." 
She  had  made  every  arrangement  accordingly  ;  but  hen- 
bitter  soul  could  see  nothing  in  the  st(;p  but  fear  and 
hypocrisy  ;  and  he  knew  it.  Aid  as  he  la,y  talking 
alone  with  the  man  whom  they  had  summontfl,  ( wo  or 
three  nights  before  th?^  end,  ^hf ,  silting  in  ;ho  next 
room,  had  been  coiiscious  of  a  deep  and  smartijig  jeal- 
ousy. Had  not  the  hard  devotion  of  twenty  years 
made  hiia  at  least,  lier  own  ?  And  here  was  tins  black- 
coated  reciter  of  incredible  things  stepping  into  her 
place.  Only  in  death  she  recovered  liim  wholly.  No 
priest  interfered  while  lie  irew  L'is  last  breath  upon 
her  bosom. 

And  now  Marcella!  Yet  the  girl's  voice  and  plea 
tugged  at  her  withered  heart.  She  felt  a  dread  of  un- 
known softnesses  —  of  being  invaded  and  weakened 
by  things  in  her  akin  to  hei  daughter,  and  so  captured 
afresh.  Her  mind  fell  upon  the  bare  idea  of  a  revival 
of  the  Maxwell  engagement,  and  caressed  it. 

Meanwhile  Marcella  stood  dressing  by  the  open 
window  in  the  sunlight,  which  filled  the  room  with 
wavy  reflections  cauglit  from  the  sea.  Fishing-boats 
were  putting  off  from  the  beach,  three  hundred  feet 
below  her;  she  could  hear  the  grating  of  the  keels, 
the  songs  of  the  boatmen.  On  the  little  breakwater 
to  the  right  an  artist's  white  umbrella  shone  in  thi' 
sun;  and  a  hall-naked  boy,  poised  on  the  bows  of  a 
boat  moored  beside  the  painter,  stood  bent  in  the  eagfr 
attitude  of  one  about  to  drop  the  bait  into  the 
blue  Avave  below.  His  brown  back  burnt  against  the 
water.     Cliff,  houses,  sea,  glowed  in  warmth  and  liglst ; 


MABCELLA. 


437 


Mt 


tlie  ail-  was  ftill  of  roses  ai.d  oi,ii,g(..l,I,„soin  ■  -.ml  t 
an  English  sens,, ,.,.,  already  th.  .n^j   It       ,;,;::'  "' 
And  Mareella's  hands,  as  she  ooilod  and  ph      d!.-,- 
.Lock  ha,r,  moved  with  a  now  lightness  ;  f.,       ;  « 
tnne  smce  her  father's  death  her  look  had  itst™. 
hre   crossed  every  now  and  then  by  so     th   "    t^ 
n.ade  her  all  softness  and  all  woman,      ^o     VC^. 

iTad  aireadv  ^r   ?  !"''™''  '"    ^"  ""agination  she 

ot  to  he  ^  ^  *^™'^  ''"^'"■™'  «P"^'^-     How 

not  to  be  grasping  oi  effusive,  and  yet  to  show  t\Z 

y™  co„M  fee,  and   repay  kindness  L^i!:,:'::  ^ 
Meanwhile,  from   that  letter,  or  rather   in    .„l.n 

ini^^htn  f '  r  *'>™'«''*^ »'  >-tnrw:::  : 

and  to  aT  ?h;t  f        T  '°  '''''  "^"  ■•'•'^•■"  «'  "ellor, 
and  to  all  that  she  would  and  could  do  for  the  dwellers 


w 


f 

i 


M 


CHAPTER  IV. 

\t  was  a  bleak  cast-wind  day  towards  the  end  of 
.March.  Ahlous  was  at  work  in  the  library  at  tlie 
Court,  writing  at  his  grandfather's  table,  where  in 
general  he  got  through  his  estate  and  i-o\inty  affairs, 
keeping  his  old  sitting-room  upstairs  for  the  pursuits 
that  were  more  particularly  his  own. 

All  the  morning  he  had  been  occupied  with  a  tedious 
piece  of  local  business,  wading  through  endless  docu- 
ments concerning  a  dispute  between  the  head-master 
of  a  neighbouring  grammar-school  and  his  governing 
body,  of  which  Aldous  was  one.  The  affair  was  diffi- 
cult, personal,  odious.  To  have  wasted  nearly  three 
hours  upon  it  was,  to  a  man  of  Aldous's  type,  to  have 
lost  a  day.  Besides  he  had  not  his  grandfather's 
knack  in  such  things,  and  was  abundantly  conscious 

of  it. 

However,  there  it  was,  a  duty  which  none  but  ho 
apparcnitly  could  or  would  do,  'M\d  he  had  been  wrest- 
ling with  "it.  With  more  philosophy  than  usual,  too. 
since  every  tick  of  the  clock  behind  him  bore  him 
nearer  to  an  appointment  which,  whatever  it  might  be, 
would  not  be  tedious. 

At  last  he  got  up  and  went  to  the  window  to  look 
at  the  weather.  A  cutting  wind,  clearly,  but  no  rain. 
Then  he  walked  into  the  drawing-room,  calling  for  las 

438 


MAltCELLA. 


489 


aunt.     Ko  on.  Nvas  to  l.e  soon,  either  tl.ere  or  in  tl.e 
«vator,,  ana  he  can.  back  ^ 


a 


^^' Roberts,  has  Miss  Raobiirn  gone  out  ^  " 

IS  hir  J^  rank  any  wliere  about  ^  " 
my  b^d""  "  '''  --king-roon.  a  little  while  ago, 

"  Will  you  jDlease  try  and  find  him  ?  " 
"Yes,  my  lord." 

Aldous's  mouth   twitched  with   impatience  as   the 
old  servant  shut  the  door. 

"How  many  times  did  Roberts  manage  to  bo-lord 
meinammute?"  he  asked  himself;  -.^ot  it      we 

to_t.te,IsupposeIshould'oniymak:i-m 
And  walking  again  to  the  window,  he  thru-    his 

■;Tt.r:hef,  r^""' """  ^'°°"  '-■^-^  -"-'«> 

I.H  tiom  cheerful  countenance. 

One  of  the  things  that  most  tormented  him  indeed 
m  t  us  recent  existence  was  a  perpetual  prickL  se^se 
of  the  contrast  between  this  small  world  of  his  aneest  a 
posscss,ons  and  traditions,  with  all  its  ceren  ~„j 

ctt  a"dn;r''  '!^*'  «"'-'*  "-"'"^--W  outsi      i   of 
act  on  and  of  thought.    Do  what  he  would,  he  eould  not 

™-kjngh>mselfwithinthelimitsoftheM;x:Xlte 

Jo  th    people  hving  upon  it  he  was  the  man  of  ,  os 

■"portanee  within  their  ken,  was  inevitahh-  thei-  pltc" 

-te.  and  earthly  providence.     He  confess  d  that'  1" 


m 


440 


M ABC  ELLA. 


'W§ 


was  a  ival  need  of  hiin,  if  lie  did  his  duty.  But  on 
this  need  the  class-practice  of  generations  had  built  up 
a  deference,  a  sharpiK'.-,s  of  class-distinction,  wh'u-h  any 
ird.  ! ,;  -nust  lind  more  and  more  irksome  in  proportion 
lo  ',,  modernness.  What  was  in  Aldons's  mind,  as 
he  stood  with  drawn  brows  looking  out  over  the  view 
whi(!h  showed  him  most  of  his  domain,  was  a  sort  of 
hot  impatience  of  being  made  day  by  day,  in  a  hundred 
foolish  Wiiv«  ^"  ^  ^"y  at  greatness. 

Yet,  as  we  know,  he  was  no  democrat  by  conviction, 
had  no  comforting  faith  in  what  seemed  to  him  the  rule 
of  a  multitudinous  ignorance.    Still  every  sane  man  of 
to-day  knows,  at  any  rate,  that  the  world  has  taken 
the  road  of  democracy,  and  that  the  key  to  the  future, 
for  good  or  ill,  Ues  not  in  the  revolts  and  speculations 
of  the  cultivated  few,  but  in  the  men  and  movements 
that  can  seize  the  many.     Aldous's  temper  was  de- 
spondently critical   towards   tlie    majority'    of   these, 
perhaps  ;  lie  had,  constitutionally   little  of  thai  poet's 
sympathy  with  the  crowd,  as  such,  which  had  ^dven 
Hallin  his  power.     But,  at  nny  rate,  they  tilleu    he 
human  stage  —  these  men  and  movements  —  and  h  ' 
mind  as  a  beholder.     l^>eside  the  great  world-specta  ' 
perpetually  in   his  eye  and   thought,  the  small      ul- 
world  pomps  and  f  udalisms  of  his  own  existence  ha<l 
a  way  of  "■  loking  vmHcuIous  i  >  him.     He  constantly 
felt  himseil  absurd.     It  was  ludicrously  clear  to  him, 
for  instance,  that  in  this  kingdom  he  had  inherited  it 
.vould  be  tl    ught  a  1  ■  ;^e  condescension  on  his  part  if 
he  were  to  ask  the  secretary  of  a  trades  union  to  dine 
with  him  at  the  Court.     Whereas,  in  his  oavu  honest 
opinio"    the  secretary  had  a  ia"   more  important  auf- 
interes     ig      st  in  the  uni  erse  than  lie. 


MA  [WELL  A, 


441 


So  that,  in  spitn  wf  a  stroii,-,'  love  of  family,  ri.ri,i]y 
kept  to  himsflf,  he,  bad  very  few  of  the  ilhisions  which 
Jiialve  rank  and  weal  ;h  (hdighMul.     (h\  the  other  hand, 
he  had  a  tyrannous  sense  of  obligation,  whiuii  kept 
him  tied  to  his  phioe  and  his  work  —to  such  work  as 
he  had  been  spending  the  morning  on.     Tliis  sei'se  of 
obligation  had  for  the  present  withdrawn  him  Irom 
any  very  aotiv(*  share  in  politics.     He  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  early  in  the  y.":ir,  just  about  the  time  when, 
owing  to  some  rearrangements  in  the  personnel  of  the 
GoveiiuiKMit,   the   Premier   had    made  iiim   some   ex- 
tremely flattering  overtures,  that    he   must    lor   the 
present  devote  himself  to  the  Court,     'i'h.'re  were  ex- 
tensive  chau'        and   reforms  going  on  in   ditferent 
parts  of  the  estate:   some  of   the  schools  which  he 
owned  and  mainly  supported  weie  being  rebuilt  and 
enlarged;  and  he  had  a  somewhat  original  schema  for 
the  extension  of  adult  education  throughout  the  ]  rop- 
erty  vry  much  on  his  mind  — a  scheme  which  must 
be  organised  and  carried  tlirc»ugh  by  himself  appar- 
ently, if  it  was  to  thrive  at  all. 

Much  of  this  business  was  very  dreary  to  him,  some 
of  It  altogether  distasteful.  Since  the  day  of  his 
inirting  with  Marcella  Boyce  lus  only  r(.al  pJ  mures 
had  lain  in  politics  or  books.  Politics,  just  as  they 
were  growing  absorbing  to  him,  must,  for  a  while  at 
any  rate,  be  put  aside;  and  even  books  had  not  fared 
as  well  as  they  might  have  been  exi.e(tfed  to  do  in  the 
couu.;ryqui  ,,  Day  after  day  he  w  ..ed  or  rode  about 
the  nuiddy  lanes  of  the  estate,  doing  i!.,  work  that 
seemed  to  him  to  be  his,  as  b.  st  he  could,  yet  nevei 
very  certain  of  its  value ,  rather,  spending  Ids  thouglits 


442 


MARCELLA. 


mnro  and  more,  with  re^r;inl  to  his  own  place  uiid 
Cuiu'tion  in  the  world,  on  a  sort  of  nicntul  apologctir 
wliieh  was  far  from  stimuhitin};;  sorely  conscious  tli" 
while  of  the  unmatched  charm  and  effectiveness  with 
wliicli  his  grandfather  had  gone  about  the  same  busi- 
ness ;  and  as  lonely  at  heart  as  a  man  can  wi  ii  be  — 
the  wound  of  love  unliealed,  the  wound  of  friendship 
still  deep  and  uueonsoled.  To  bring  social  peace  and 
progress,  as  he  understood  them,  to  this  bit  of  Mid- 
lan<l  England  a  man  of  first-rate  cajjacities  was  pei-- 
haps  sacrificing  what  ambition  would  have  calted  his 
opportunities.  Yet  neither  was  he  a  hero  to  himself 
nor  to  the  JJuekinghamshire  farmers  and  yokels  who 
depended  on  him.  They  had  liked  the  grandfather 
better,  and  had  become  stolidly  accustomed  to  the 
grandson's  virtues. 

riie  only  gleam  in  the  grey  of  his  life  siniie  he  had 
determined  about  Christmas-time  to  settle  down  at  the 
Court  had  come  from  Mr.  French's  letter.  That  letter, 
together  with  Mr.  Boyce's  posthumous  note,  which 
contained  nothing,  indeed,  but  a  skilful  appeal  to 
neighbourliness  and  old  family  friendship,  written  in 
the  best  style  of  the  ex-Balkan  Commissioner,  had 
naturally  astonished  him  greatly.  He  saw  at  once 
what  she  would  perceive  in  it,  and  turned  impatiently 
from  speculation  as  to  what  Mr.  Boyce  might  actually 
have  meant,  to  the  infinitely  more  important  matter, 
how  she  would  take  her  father's  act.  Never  had  h(^ 
written  anything  with  greater  anxiety  than  he  devoted 
to  his  letter  to  Mrs.  Boyce.  There  was  in  him  now 
a  craving  he  could  not  stay,  to  be  brought  near  to  her 
again,  to  know  how  her  life  was  going.     It  had  first 


MARCKLLA. 


448 


raised  its  head  in  hitn  since  lie  know  that  her  exist- 
ence and  VVliarton's  were  finally  parted,  and  had  hnt 
feathered  strenj,'th  from  the  self-critical  louelinesa  and 
tedinni  of  these  later  months. 

Mrs.  lioyce's  reply  couched  in  terms  at  once  stately 
and  grateful,  which  accepted  his  offer  of  service  on 
her  own  and  her  daughter's  behalf,  had  given  him 
extraordinary  pleasure.  He  turned  it  over  again  and 
again,  wondering  what  part  or  lot  Marcella  might 
have  had  in  it,  attributing  to  her  this  cordiality  or 
that  reticence ;  picturing  the  two  women  together  in 
their  black  dresses —  the  hotel,  the  pergola,  the  clitf 
—  all  of  which  he  himself  knew  well.  Finally,  he 
went  up  to  town,  saw  Mr.  French,  and  acquainted 
himself  with  the  position  and  prospects  of  the  Mellor 
estate,  feeling  himself  a  sort  of  intruder,  yet  curiously 
happy  in  the  business.  It  was  wonderful  what  that 
poor  sickly  fellow  had  been  able  to  do  in  the  last  two 
years;  yet  his  thoughts  fell  rather  into  amused  sur- 
mise as  to  what  she  would  find  it  in  her  restless  mind 
to  do  in  the  next  two  years. 

Nevertheless,  all  the  time,  the  resolution  of  which 
he  had  spoken  to  Hallin  seemed  to  himself  unshaken. 
He  recognised  and  adored  the  womanly  growth  and 
deepening  which  had  taken  place  in  her ;  he  saw  that 
she  wished  to  show  him  kindness.  But  he  thought 
he  could  trust  himself  now  and  henceforward  not" to 
force  upon  her  a  renewed  suit  for  which  there  was  in 
his  eyes  no  real  or  abiding  promise  of  happiness. 

Marcella  and  her  mother  had  now  been  at  home 
some  three  or  four  days,  and  he  was  just  about  to 


ilk 


over  to  itleilur  for  his  first  inte 


rview  with  them. 


444 


MARC ELLA. 


A  great  deal  of  the  merely  formal  business  conse- 
quent on  Mr.  Boyce's  death  had  been  already  arranged 
by  himself  and  Mr.  French.  Yet  he  had  to  consult 
Marcella  as  to  certain  investments,  and  in  a  plensant 
though  quite  formal  little  note  he  had  that  morning 
received  from  her  she  had  spoken  of  asking  his  advice 
as  to  some  new  plans  for  the  estate.  It  was  the  first 
letter  she  herself  had  as  yet  written  to  him ;  hitherto 
all  his  correspondence  had  been  carried  on  with  Mrs. 
Boyce.  It  had  struck  him,  by  the  way,  as  remarkable 
that  there  was  no  mention  of  the  wife  in  the  will. 
He  could  only  suppose  that  she  was  otherwise  pro- 
vided for.  But  there  had  been  some  curious  expres- 
sions in  her  letters. 

Where  was  Frank  ?  Aldous  looked  impatiently  at 
the  clock,  as  Roberts  did  not  reappear.  He  had  in- 
vited Leven  to  walk  with  him  to  Mellor,  and  the 
tiresome  boy  was  apparently  not  to  be  found.  Aldous 
vowed  he  would  not  wait  a  minute,  and  going  into 
the  hall,  put  on  coat  and  hat  with  most  business-like 
rapidity. 

He  was  just  equipped  when  Roberts,  somewhat 
breathless  with  long  searching,  arrived  in  time  to  any 
that  Sir  Frank  was  on  the  front  terrace. 

And  there  Aldous  caught  sight  of  the  straight 
though  somewhat  heavily  built  figure,  in  its  grey  suit 
with  the  broad  band  of  black  across  the  arm. 

"  Hullo,  Frank  !  I  thought  you  were  to  look  me  up 
in  the  library.  Roberts  has  been  searching  the  house 
for  you." 

"You  said  nothing  about  the  library,"  said  the  btn . 
rather  sulkily,  "and  Roberts  hadn't  far  to  search,  i 
have  been  in  the  smoking-room  till  this  minute." 


MABCELLA. 


445 


Aldous'did  not  argue  the  point,  and  they  set  out. 
It  was  presently  clear  to  the  elder  man  that  his  com- 
panion was  not  in  the  best  of  tempers.  The  widowed 
Lady  Leven  had  sent  her  firstborn  over  to  the  (Jourt 
for  a  few  days  that  Aldous  might  have  some  discussion 
as  to  his  immediate  future  with  the  young  man.  She 
was  a  silly,  frivolous  woman  ;  but  it  was  clear,  even  to 
her,  that  Frank  was  not  doing  very  well  for  himself  in 
the  world ;  and  advice  she  would  not  have  taken  from 
her  son's  Oxford  tutor  seemed  cogent  to  her  Avhen  it 
came  from  a  Raeburn.  "  Do  at  least,  for  goodness' 
sake,  get  him  to  give  up  his  absurd  plan  of  going  to 
America ! "  she  wrote  to  Aldous  ;  "  if  he  can't  We^his 
degree  at  Oxford,  I  suppose  he  must  get  on  Avithout  it, 
and  certainly  his  dons  seem  very  unpleasant.  But  at 
least  he  might  stay  at  home  and  do  his  duty  to  me 
and  his  sisters  till  he  marries,  instead  of  going  off  to 
the  'Rockies'  or  some  other  ridiculous  place.  He 
really  never  seems  to  think  of  Fanny  and  Rachel,  or 
what  he  might  do  to  help  mo  to  get  them  settled  now 
that  his  poor  father  is  gone." 

No ;  certainly  the  young  man  was  not  much  occu- 
pied with  "Fanny  and  Rachel!"  He  spoken  with 
ill-concealpd  impatience,  indeed,  of  both  his  sisters 
and  his  mother.  If  his  poo])le  would  get  in  the  way 
of  everything  he  wanted  to  do,  they  needn't  wonder  if 
ho  cut  up  rough  at  nonie.  For  the  present  it  was 
s.'ttled  that  ho  should  at  any  ra^e  go  back  to  Oxford 
till  tlio  end  of  the  summer  term  —  Ahlous  heartily 
pitying  tlui  unfortunate  dons  who  might  have  to  do 
with  him —but  after  that  he  entirely  declined  to  be 
•'"'.■,!!d.     He  swore  he  would  not  be  tied  at  home  like 


446 


MAECELLA. 


a  girl ;  he  must  and  would  see  the  world,  *  This  in 
itself,  from  a  lad  who  had  been  accustomed  to  regard 
his  home  as  the  centre  of  all  delights,  and  had  on  two 
occasions  stoutly  refused  to  go  with  his  family  to  Home, 
lest  he  should  miss  the  best  month  for  his  father's 
trout-stream,  was  sufficiently  surprising. 

However,  of  late  some  tardy  light  had  been  dawning 
upon  Aldous !     The  night  after  Frank's  arrival  at  the 
Court  Betty  Macdonald  came  down  to  spend  a  few 
weeks  with  Miss  Eaeburn,  being  for  the  moment  that 
lady's  particular  pet  and  prot^g4e.     Frank,  whose  sulki- 
ness  during  the  twenty -four  hours  befcjre  she  appeared 
had  been  the  despair  of  both  his  host  and  hostess, 
brightened  up  spasmodically  when  he  heard  she  was 
expected,  and  went  fishing  with  one  of  the  keepers,  on 
the  morning  before  her  arrival,  with  a  fair  imitation  of 
his  usual  spirits.     But  somehow,  since  that  first  even- 
ing, though  Betty  had   chattered,  and  danced,  and 
frolicked  her  best,  though  her  little  figure  running  ui) 
and  down  the  big  house  gave  a  new  zest  to  life  in  it. 
Frank's  manners  had  gone  from  bad  to  worse.     And 
at  last  Aldous,  who  had  not  as  yet  seen  the  two  much 
together,  and  was  never  an  observant  man  in   such 
matters,  had  begun  to  have  an  inkling.     Was  it  possi- 
ble that  the  boy  was  in  love,  and  with  Betty  ?     He 
sounded  Miss  Raeburn;  found  that  she  did  not  rise 
to  his  suggestion  at  all  —  was,  in  fact,  annoyed  by  it  — 
and  with  the  usual  stupidity  of  the  clever  man  failed 
to  draw  any  reasonable  inference  fronr  the  queerne^s 
of  his  aunt's  looks  and  sighs. 

As  to  the  little  minx  herself,  she  was  inscrutable. 
She  t-ased  them  all  in  turns,  Frank;  perhaps,  less  thjj.n 


MARCELLA. 


447 


the  others.  Ahlous,  as  usual,  found  her  a  delightful 
companion.  3he  would  walk  all  over  the  estate  with 
him  in  the  most  mannish  garments  and  boots  conceiv- 
able, which  only  made  her  childish  grace  more  femi- 
nine and  more  provocative  than  ever.  She  took  an 
interest  in  all  his  tenants;  she  dived  into  all  his 
affairs;  she  insisted  on  copying  his  letters.  And 
meanwhile,  on  either  side  were  Miss  Kaeburn,  visibly 
recovering  day  by  day  her  old  cheeriness  and  bustle, 
and  Frank  —  Frank,  who  ate  nothing,  or  nothing  com- 
mensurate to  his  bulk,  and,  if  possible,  said  less. 

Aldous  had  begun  to  feel  that  the  situation  must 
be  probed  somehow,  and  had  devised  this  walk,  indeed, 
with  some  vague  intention  of  plying  remonstrances 
and  enquiries.  He  had  an  old  affection  for  the  boy, 
which  L;uly  Leven  had  reckoned  upon. 

The  first  difficulty,  of  course,  was  to  make  him  talk 
at  all.  Aldous  tried  various  sporting  ''  gambits  "  with 
very  small  success.  At  last,  by  good-luck,  the  boy  rose 
to  something  like  animation  in  describing  an  encounter 
he  had  had  the  week  before  with  a  piebald  weasel  in 
the  course  of  a  morning's  ferreting. 

"  All  at  once  Ave  saw  the  creature's  head  poke  out  of 
the  hole  — j3«>v'  ivhite,  with  a  brown  patch  on  it.  When 
it  saw  us,  back  it  scooted! — and  we  sent  in  another 
ferret  after  the  one  that  was  there  already.  My  good- 
ness !  there  teas  a  shindy  down  in  the  earth  —  you  could 
hear  them  rolling  and  kicking  like  anything.  We  had 
our  guns  ready, —  but  all  of  a  sudden  everything 
sto])ped  —  not  a  sound  or  a  sign  of  anything  !  W^e 
tlirew  down  our  guns  and  dug  away  like  blazes.  Pres- 
ently we  came  on  the  two  ferrets  gorging  away  at  a 


448 


MARCELLA. 


dead  rabbit,  —  nasty  little  beasts!  —  that  accounted 
for  them;  but  where  on  earth  was  the  weasel?  1 
really  began  to  think  we  had  imagined  the  creature, 
when,  whish  !  came  a  flash  of  white  lightning,  and  out 
the  thing  bolted  —  pure  white  with  a  splash  of  brown 
—  its  winter  coat,  of  course.  I  shot  at  it,  but  it  was 
no  go.  If  I'd  only  put  a  bag  over  the  hole,  and  not 
been  an  idiot,  I  should  have  caught  it." 

The  boy  swung  along,  busily  ruminating  for  a 
minute  or  two,  and  forgetting  his  trouble. 

"  I've  seen  one  something  like  it  before,"  he  went 
on  —  '*  ages  ago,  when  I  was  a  little  chap,  and  Harry 
Wharton  and  I  were  out  rabbiting.  By  the  way  —  " 
he  stopped  short  —  "do  you  see  that  that  fellow's 
come  back  ?  " 

''  I  saw  tlie  paragraph  in  the  Times  this  morning," 
said  Aldous,  drily. 

"  And  I've  got  a  letter  from  Fanny  this  morning,  to 
say  that  he  and  Lady  Selina  are  to  be  married  in  July, 
and  that  she's  going  about  making  a  martyr  and  a 
saint  of  him,  talking  of  the  '  persecution '  he's  had  to 
put  up  with,  and  the  vulgar  fellows  who  couldn't 
appreciate  him,  and  gener;illy  making  an  ass  of  her- 
self. Oh!  he  won't  ask  any  of  us  to  his  wedding  — 
trust  him.  It  U  a  rum  business.  You  know  Willie 
Ffolliot  —  that  queer  dark  fellow  —  that  used  to  be  in 
the  loth  Hussars  — did  all  those  wild  things  in  the 
Soudan  ? " 

''  Yes  —  slightly." 

''  I  heard  all  about  it  from  him.  He  was  one  of  that 
gambling  set  at  Harry's  club  there's  been  all  that  talk 
about  you  know,  since  Harry  came  to  grief.     Well  I  — 


MA  RV ELL  A. 


449 


he  was  going  along  Piccadilly  one  night  last  summer, 
quite  late,  between  eleven  and  twelve,  when  Harry 
caught  hold  of  him  from  behind.     AVillie  thought  he 
was  out  of  his  mind,  or  drunk.     He  told  me  he  never 
saAV  anybody  in  such  a  queer  state  in  his  life.     <  You 
come  along  with  me,'  said  Harry,  'come  and  talk  to 
me,  or  I  shall  slioot  myself!'     So  Willie  asked  him 
what  was  up.    '  I 'm  engaged  to  be  married,'  said  Harry. 
Whereupon  Willie  remarked  that,  considering  his  man- 
ner and  his  ap[)earance,  he  was  sorry  for  the  young 
lady.     '  Younrj! '  said  Harry  as  though  he  would  have 
knocked  him  down.     And  then  it  came  out  that  he 
had  just  — that  moment !  — engaged  himself  to  Lady 
Selina.     And  it  was  the  very  same  day  that  he  got 
into  that  precious  mess  in  the  House  —  the  very  same 
night!     I  suppose  he  went  to  her  to  be  comforted, 
and  thought  he'd  pull  something  off,  miyway  !     Why 
she  took  him  !    But  of  course  she's  no  chicken,  and  old 
Alresford  may  die  any  day.     And  about  the  bribery 
business  — I  supi)ose  he  made  her  thiidc  him  an  injured 
innocent.     Anyway,  he  talked  to  Willie,  when  they  got 
to  his  rooms,  like  a  raving  lunatic,  and  you  know  he 
was  always  such  a  cool  hand.     '  Ffolliot,'  he  said, '  can 
you   come   with   me  to   Siam   next  week?'      'How 
much?'  said  Will.     'I  thought  you  were  engaged  to 
Lady  Solina.'     Then  he  swore  little  oaths,  and  vowed 
he  had  told  her  he  must  have  a  year.     'We'll  go  and 
explore  those  temples  in  Siam," 'he  said,  and  then  he 
muttered  something  about  '  Why  should  I  ever  come 
back?'     Presently  he  began  to  talk  of  the  strike  — 
and  the  paper  — and  the  bribe,  and  all  the  rest  of  it, 
snaking  out  a  long  rigmarole  story.     Oh  I  of  course 


V 


VOL.    II. 


450 


MAUCELLA. 


he'd  (lone  everything  for  the  best  —  trust  him!  —  and 
everyV)ody  else  was  a  cur  and  a  slanderer.  And  Fft)l- 
liot  declared  he  felt  quite  pulpy  —  the  man  was  such 
a  wreck ;  and  he  said  he'd  go  with  him  to  Siam,  or 
anywhere  else,  if  he'd  only  cheer  up.  And  they  got 
out  the  maps,  and  Harry  began  to  quiet  down,  and  at 
last  Will  got  him  to  bed.  Fanny  says  Ffolliot  reports 
he  had  great  diihculty  in  dragging  him  home.  How- 
ever, Lady  Selina  has  no  luck !  —  there  he  is." 

"  Oh !  he  will  be  one  of  the  shining  lights  of  our 
side  before  long,"  said  Aldous,  with  resignation. 
"  Since  he  gave  up  his  seat  here,  there  has  been  some 
talk  of  finding  him  one  in  the  Alresfords'  neighbour- 
hood, I  believe.  But  I  don't  suppose  anybody's  very 
anxious  for  him.  He  is  to  address  a  meeting,  I  see, 
on  the  Tory  Labour  Programme  next  week.  The 
Clarion,  I  suppose,  will  go  round  with  him." 

"  Beastly  rag !  "  said  Frank,  fervently.  "  It's  rather 
a  queer  thing,  isn't  it,  that  such  a  clever  chap  as  that 
should  have  made  such  a  mess  of  his  chances.  It 
almost  makes  one  not  mind  being  a  fool." 

He  laughed,  but  bitterly,  and  at  the  same  moment 
the  -doud  that  for  some  twenty  minutes  or  so  seemed 
to  have  completely  rolled  away  descen.Ljd  again  on 
eye  and  expression. 

''  AVell,  there  are  worse  things  than  bein  i  a  fool," 
said  Aldous,  with  insidious  emphasis  — ''  sulking,  and 
shutting  up  with  your  best  friends,  for  instance." 

Frank  flushed  deeply,  and  turned  upon  him  with  a 
sort  of  uncertain  fury. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

Whereupon  Aldous  slipped  Ids  arm  inside  the  boy's= 


MAIICELLA. 


451 


and  prepared  himself  with  rosignation  for  the  soene 
that  had  to  be  got  through  so.neliow,  when   Frank 
suddenly  exclaimed  : 
"  I  say,  there's  Miss  Boyce  ' " 

ree^llld'  f  ™'  "u"'™  '"'"'  l'™'''^  ™'^  completely 
ecalled  from  altruism  to  his  own  affairs,     iwou; 

thriU  of't\™"r;T''  "'"•  ^"--Shtened  h.mself  with 
a  thrill  of  the  whole  being,  and  saw  Mareella  some  dis- 
taee  aheaxl  of  them  in  the  Mellor  drive,  whieLt  ly 

on  thegronnd,  and  was  not  apparently  aware  of  their 
appijoaeh     A  ray  of  col.l  s,in  eaine  out  at  the  mon  en 
touehed  the  bending  figure  and  the  grass  at  T  f  et 
-.rass^^  starred    with    primroses,    which    she    was 

^^:^  'rrX;  rsotT-'""^"'"  --''  ^™'^' 

And  he  looked  at  his  companion  in  astonishment 
I  came  to  speak  to  Miss  Boyce  and  her  mother  on 
business,    said  Aldous,  with  all  his  habitual  reser™ 
J  aought  you  wouldn't  mind  the  walk  back  by  your- 

"  Business  ?  "  the  boy  echoed  involuntarily 
Aldous  hesitated,  then  said  quietly  : 
"Mr  Boyce  appointed  me  executor  under  his  will  " 
Frank  hfted  his  eyebrows,  and  allowed  himself  at 
least  an  inward  "  By  Jove ! "  ""iseii  at 

By  this  time  Mareella  had  caught  sight  of  them 
and  was  advancing.     She  was  in  deep  mourn  „!b„; 
er  hands  were  full  of  primroses,  which  shone  a^iins 
tl.e black,  and  the  sun,  penetrating  the  thin  .reeu  of 

tace  full  of  sensitive  and  beautiful  expression. 


452 


MAIiCELLA. 


I 


Th«;y  had  not  met  since  they  stood  together  beside 
Hallin's  grave.  This  fact  was  in  both  their  minds. 
Ahlous  felt  it,  as  it  were,  in  the  touch  of  her  hand. 
What  he  coukl  not  know  was,  that  she  was  thinking 
quite  as  much  of  his  letter  to  her  mother  and  its 
phrases. 

They  stood  talking  a  little  in  the  sunshine.  Then, 
as  Frank  was  taking  his  leave,  Marcella  said : 

"Won't  you  Avait  for — for  Lord  iMaxwell,  in  the 
old  library  ?  We  can  get  at  it  from  the  garden,  and  I 
have  made  it  quite  habitable.  My  mother,  of  course, 
does  not  wish  to  see  anybody." 

Frank  hesitated,  then,  pushed  by  a  certain  boyish 
curiosity,  and  by  the  angry  belief  that  Betty  had  been 
carried  oft'  by  Miss  Raeburn,  and  was  out  of  his  reach 
till  luncheon-time,  said  he  would  wait.  JMarcella  led 
the  way,  opened  the  garden-door  of  the  lower  corri- 
dor, close  to  the  spot  where  she  had  seen  Wliarton 
standing  in  the  moonlight  on  a  never-to-be-forgotten 
night,  and  then  ushered  them  into  the  library.  The 
beautiful  old  phice  had  been  decently  repaired,  though 
in  no  sense  modernised.  The  roof  had  no  holes,  and 
its  delicate  stucco-work,  formerly  stained  and  defaced 
by  damp,  had  been  whitened,  so  that  the  brown  and 
golden  tones  of  the  books  in  the  latticed  cases  told 
against  it  with  delightful  effect.  The  floor  was  cov- 
ered with  a  cheap  matting,  and  there  were  a  few 
simple  chairs  and  tables.  A  wood  fire  burnt  on  tho 
old  hearth.  Marcella's  books  and  work  lay  about, 
and  some  shallow  earthenware  pans  filled  with  homo- 
grown  hyaiinths  scented  the  air.  What  with  tlie 
lovely  architecture  of  the   room   itself,  its   size,  its 


MARCELLA. 


453 


books  and  old  portraits,  and  the  signs  it  bore  of 
simide  yet  refined  use,  it  would  have  been  difficult  to 
iind  a  gentler,  mellower  place.  Alduus  looked  round 
him  with  delight. 

"  r  hop-  o  make  a  village  drawing-room  of  it  in 
time,"  she  said  casually  to  Frank  as  she  stooped  to 
put  a  log  on  the  fire.  "  I  think  we  shall  get  them  to 
come,  as  it  has  a  separate  door,  and  scraper,  and  mat 
all  to  itself." 

"Goodness!"  said  Frank,  "they  won't  come.  It's 
too  far  from  the  village." 

"Don't  you  be  so  sure,"  said  ]\rarcella,  laughing. 
"Mr.  Craven  has  all  sorts  of  ideas." 

"  Who's  Mr.  Craven  ?  " 

"  Didn't  you  meet  him  at  my  rooms  ?  " 

"Oh!  I  remember,"  ejaculated  the  boy —  "a  fri<dit- 
ful  .Socialist ! "  -^  o 

"And  his   wife's  worse,"  said   Mavcolla,   merrily 
They've  come  down  to  settle  here.     They're  Lroin- 
to  help  me."  J       b      ^ 

"Then  for  mercy's  sake  keep  them  to  yourself" 
cried  Frank,  "  and  don't  let  them  go  loose  over  the 
county.     We  don't  want  them  at  our  place." 

"Oh!    your  turn   will   come.     Lord    Maxwell"  — 
her  tone  changed  —  became  shy  and   a   little    grave 
'•Shall  Ave  go  into  the  Stone  Parlour?     j\ry  mother 
wdl  come  down  if  you  wish  to  see  her,  but  she  thought 
that  —  that  —  perhaps  we  could  settle  things." 

Aldous  had  been  standing  by,  hat  in  hand,  watchin- 
her  as  she  chattered  to  Frank.  As  she  addressed  hini 
he  gave  a  little  start. 

"Oh  !  I  think  we  can  settle  everything,"  he  said. 


K  'v^ 


454 


MAUCELLA. 


n 


"  Well,  this  is  rum !  "  said  Frank  to  himself,  as  the 
•loov  dosed  iK'hind  tliom,  and  instead  of  betakiujjf  hiin- 
Rclf  to  the  eh;iii"  and  the  newHpapor  with  which  iMai- 
cella  had  i»rovitlod  him,  he  h>  ga'i  to  walk  excitedly  up 
and  down.  "Her  father  makej  him  executor  —  he 
manages  her  property  for  her — and  they  bfdiave  nicely 
to  each  other,  as  though  nothing  had  evee  happened  at 
all.  What  the  deuce  does  it  mean  '/  And  all  th*'  time 
Betty  —  why,  Betty's  dt'voted  to  him!  —  and  it's  as 
plain  as  a  pikestaff  what  that  old  cat,  ^liss  Kaeburn, 
is  tliinking  of  from  morning  till  night!  Well,  I'm 
beat ! " 

And  throwing  himself  down  on  a  stool  by  the  tire, 
his  chin  between  his  hands,  he  stared  dejectedly  at  the 
burning  logs. 


iii 


CHAPTER  V. 

Meanwhile  Marcella  and  her  (  ompanion  were  sittin- 
in  the  Stone  Parlour  .ide  by  sule,  save  for  a  small  table 
between  them,  which  held  the  various  papers  Aldous 
had  brought  with  him.  At  first  there  had  been  on 
her  side  — as  soon  as  thej  >e  alone  — a  feelin-  of 
stifling  embarrassment.     /  .  painful,  proud  sen- 

sations  with  which  she  ha(,  ceived  the  news  of  her 
lather's  action  returned  upon  her;  she  would  have 
hked  to  escape;  she  shrank  from  what  once  more 
seemed  an  encroachment,  a  situation  as  strange  as  it 
was  embarrassing. 

But  his  manner  very  soon  made  it  impossible,  in- 
deed ridiculous,  to  maintain  such  an  attitude  of  mind 
He  ran  through  his  business  with  his  usual  clearness 
and  rapidity.     It  was  not   complicated;    her   views 
proved  to  be  the  same  as  his ;  and  she  was  empowered 
to  decide  for  her  mother.     Aldous  took  notes  of  one 
or  two  of  her  wishes,  left  some  papers  with  her  for 
her  mother's  signature,  and  then  his  work  was  practi- 
cally done.     Nothing,  throughout,  could  have   been 
more  reassuring  or  more  everyday  than  his  demeanour 
Then,  indeed,  when  the  end  of  their  business  inter- 
view approached,  an.]    with   it   the   opportunity   for 
conversation  of  a  ..iferent  kind,  both  were  conscious 
of  a  certain  tremor.     To  him  this  old   parlour  was 
tovtui'iiigly  full  of  memories,    la  this  very  place  where 

455 


f'l 


MICROCOPY    RESOIUTION    TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


if  l> 

13.2 
13.6 


1.4 


12.5 
2.2 

2.0 


1.8 


1.6 


A  APPLIED  IIVMGE     Inc 

^^  1653   East   Main   Street 

r^S  Rochester,   New   York         14609       USA 

'-i^  (716)   482  -  OJOO  -  Phone 

=^  (716)   238  -  5989  -  Fax 


456 


MAECELLA. 


they  sat  he  had  given  her  his  mother's  pearls,  and 
taken  a  kiss  in  return  from  the  cheek  that  was  once 
more  so  near  to  him.  With  what  free  and  exquisite 
curves  the  hair  set  about  the  white  brow !  How 
beautiful  Avas  the  neck  — the  hand!  What  ripened, 
softened  charm  in  every  movement!  The  touching 
and  rebuking  thought  rose  in  his  mind  that  from  her 
nursing  experience,  and  its  frank  contact  with  the 
ugliest  realities  of  the  physical  life  —  a  contact  he  had 
often  shrunk  from  realising  —  there  had  come  to  her, 
not  so  much  added  strength,  as  a  new  subtlety  and 
sweetness,  some  delicate,  vibrating  quality,  that  had 
been  entirely  lacking  to  her  first  splendid  youth. 

Suddenly  she  said  to  him,  with  a  certain  hesitation : 

"  There  was  one  more  point  I  wanted  to  speak  to 
you  about.  Can  you  advise  me  about  selling  some  of 
those  railway  shares  ?  " 

She  pointed  to  an  item  in  a  short  list  of  invest- 
ments that  lay  beside  them. 

"  But  why  ?  "  said  Aldous,  surprised.  "  They  are 
excellent  property  already,  and  are  going  up  in  value." 

"Yes,  I  know.  But  I  want  some  ready  money 
immediately  —  more  than  we  have — to  spend  on  cot- 
tage-building in  the  village.  I  saw  a  builder  yester- 
day and  came  to  a  first  understanding  with  him.  We 
are  altering  the  water-supply  too.  They  have  begun 
upon  it  already,  and  it  will  cost  a  good  deal." 

Aldous  was  still  puzzled. 

"  I  see,"  he  said.  "  But  —  don't  you  suppose  that 
the  income  of  the  estate,  now  tiiat  your  father  has 
done  so  much  to  free  it,  will  be  enough  to  meet  ex- 
penses of  that  kind,  without  trenching  on  investments  ? 


MARC  ELLA. 


457 


3arls,  and 

was  once 

exquisite 

vv !    How 

t  ripened, 

touching 

,  from  her 

with  the 

ict  he  had 

ne  to  her, 

)tlety  and 

that  had 

rath. 

lesitation : 

speak  to 

g  some  of 

of  invest- 

They  are 
in  value." 
iy  money 
nd  on  cot- 
Ler  yester- 
him.  We 
ave  begun 


ipose  that 
father  has 
)  meet  ex- 
estmcnts  ? 


A  certain  amoant,  of  course,  shouhl  be  syster^-  ically 
hiid  aside  every  year  for  rebuilding,  and  estate  im- 
provements generally." 

''Yes;  but  you  see  I  only  regard  half  of  the 
income  as  mine." 

She  looked  up  with  a  little  smile. 

He  was  now  standing  in  front  of  her,  against  the 
fire,  his  grey  eyes,  which  could  be,  as  she  well  knew, 
so  cold  and  inexpressive,  bent  upon  her  with  eager 
interest. 

"  Only  half  the  income  ?  "  he  repeated.  "  Ah  ! "  — 
he  smiled  kindly  —  «  is  that  an  arrangement  between 
you  and  your  mother  ?  " 

Marcella  let  her  hand  fall  with  a  little  despairing 
gesture. 

"  Oh  no  !  "  she  said  —  "  oh  no  !  Mamma— mamma 
will  take  nothing  from  me  or  from  the  estate.  She 
has  her  own  money,  and  she  will  live  with  me  part  of 
the  year." 

The  intonation  in  the  words  touched  Aldous  pro- 
foundly. 

"  Part  of  the  year  ?  "  he  said,  astonished,  yet  not 
knowing  how  to  question  her.  "  Mrs.  Boyce  will  not 
make  Mellor  her  home  ?  " 

"  She  would  be  thankful  if  she  had  never  seen  it," 
said  Marcella,  quickly  — "and  she  would  never  see  it 
again  if  it  weren't  for  me.  It's  dreadful  what  she  went 
through  last  year,  when  —  when  I  was  in  London." 

Her  voice  fell.  Glancing  up  at  bim  involuntarily, 
her  eye  looked  with  dread  for  some  chill,  some  stiffen- 
ing in  him.  Probably  he  condemi.ed  her,  had  always 
condemned  her  for  deserting  her  home  and  her  parents. 
Ihit  instead  she  saw  nothing  but  sympatliy. 


458 


MARCELLA. 


M 


"Mrs.  Boyce  has  had  a  hard  life,"  he  said,  with 
grave  feeling. 

Marcella  felt  a  tear  leap,  and  furtively  raised  lier 
handkerchief  to  brush  it  away.  Then,  with  a  natural 
selfishness,  her  quick  thought  took  another  turn.  A 
wild  yearning  rose  in  her  mind  to  tell  him  much 
more  than  she  had  ever  done  in  old  days  of  the  miser- 
able home-circumstances  of  her  earl;y  youth ;  to  lay 
stress  on  the  mean  unhappiness  which  had  depressed 
her  own  child-nature  whenever  she  was  with  her 
parents,  and  had  withered  her  mother's  character. 
Secretly,  passionately,  she  often  made  the  past  an 
excuse.  Excuse  for  what  ?  For  the  lack  of  delicacy 
and  loyalty,  of  the  best  sort  of  breeding,  which  had 
marked  the  days  of  her  engagement  ? 

Never  —  never  to  speak  of  it  with  him  ! — to  pour 
out  everything  —  to  ask  him  to  judge,  to  understand, 
to  forgive !  — 

She  pulled  herself  together  by  a  strong  effort,  re- 
minding herself  in  a  flash  of  all  that  divided  them : 
—  of  womanly  pride — of  Betty  Macdonald's  presence 
at  the  Court  —  of  that  vain  confidence  to  Hall  in,  of 
which  her  inmost  being  must  have  been  ashamed,  but 
that  something  calming  and  sacred  stole  upon  her 
Avhenever  she  thought  of  Hallr  "fting  everything 
concerned  wdtli  him  into  a  categc  ^    .f  its  own. 

No;  let  her  selfish  weakness  mike  no  fettering 
claim  upon  the  man  before  her.  Let  her  be  content 
with  the  friendship  she  had,  after  all,  achieved,  that 
was  now  doing  its  kindly  best  for  her. 

All  these  images,  like  a  tumultuous  procession,  ran 
through  the  mind  in  a  moment.     Ho  thought,  as  she 


here. 


mlo, 


MARCELLA. 


459 


sat  there  with  her  bent  head,  the  hands  clasped  round 
the  kuee  in  tlie  way  he  knew  so  well,  that  she  was 
fall  of  her  mother,  and  found  it  difficult  to  put  what 
she  felt  into  words. 

"  But  tell  me  about  your  plan,"  he  said  gentlv  "if 
you  will.*'  •'^ 

"Oh!   it  is  nothing,"  she  said  hurriedly.     "I  am 
afraid    you    will    think    it    impracticable  -  perhaps 
wrong      It's  only  this:   you  see,  as  there  is  no  one 
depending  on   me -as   I  am   practically  alone -it 
seemed  to  me  I  might  make  an  experiment.     Four 
'thousand  a  year  is  a  great  deal  more  than  I  need  ever 
spend- than  I  ought,  of  course,  to  spend  on  myself 
I  uon't  think  altogether  what  I  used  tr  think     I  mean 
to  keep  up  this  house -to  make  it  beautiful,  to  hand 
It  on,  perhaps  more  beautiful  than  I  found  l^  to  those 
that_  come  after.     And  I  mean  to  maintain  enou-h 
service  in  it  both  to  keep  it  in  order  and  to  make  it"a 
social  centre  for  all  the  people  about -for  everybody 
ot  all  classes,  so  far  as  I  can.     I  want  it  to  be  a  place  of 
amusement  and  deliglit  and  talk  to  us  all  -  especially 
to  the  very  poor.     After  all  "-her  cheek  flushed 
under  the  quickenii.g  of  her  thought  -  -  everybody  on 
he  estate,  in  their  different  degree,  has  contributed  to 
tins  house,  in  some  sense,  for  generations.     I  want  it 
to  come  into  their  lives -to  make  it  their  possession, 

T  S^'^'''"^'  ''"^^^  ""^  "^^^^-  ^^^t  then  that  isn't 
al  .     Ihe  people  here  can  enjoy  nothing,  use  nothing, 

111  they  have  a  worthier  life  of  their  own.  Wa-es 
i^ere,  you  know,  are  terribly  low,  much  lower  "  —  she 
acixled  timidly -"than  with  you.  They  are,  as  a 
nile,  eleven  or  twelve  shillings  a  week.     Now  there 


4G0 


MAIiCELLA. 


seem  to  be  about  one  hundred  and  sixty  labourers  on 
the  estate  altogether,  in  the  farmers'  employment  and 
in  our  own.  Some,  of  course,  are  boys,  and  some  old 
men  earning  a  half-wage.  Mr.  Craven  and  I  havt; 
worked  it  out,  and  we  find  that  an  average  weekly 
increase  of  five  shillings  per  head — which  would  give 
the  men  of  full  age  and  in  full  work  about  a  pound 
a  week  —  would  work  out  at  about  two  thousand  a 


>5 


year, 

She  paused  a  moment,  trying  to  put  her  further 
statement  into  its  best  order. 

"  Your  farmers,  you  know,"  he  said,  smiling,  after  a 
pause,  "  will  be  your  chief  difficulty." 

"  Of  course !  But  I  thought'  of  calling  a  meeting 
of  them.  I  have  discussed  it  with  Mr.  French  —  of 
course  he  thinks  me  mad  !  —  but  he  gave  me  some  ad- 
vice. I  should  propose  to  them  all  fresh  leases,  with 
certain  small  advantages  that  Louis  Craven  thinks 
would  tempt  them,  at  a  reduced  rental  exactly  answer- 
ing to  the  rise  in  wages.  Then,  in  return  they  must 
accept  a  sort  of  fair-wage  clause,  binding  them  to  pay 
henceforward  the  standard  wage  of  the  estate." 

She  looked  up,  her  face  expressing  urgent  though 
silent  interrogation. 

"  You  must  remember,"  he  said  quickly,  "  that 
though  the  estate  is  recovering,  and  rents  have  been 
fairly  paid  about  here  during  the  last  eighteen  months, 
you  may  be  called  upon  at  any  moment  to  make  the 
reductions  which  hampered  your  uncle.  These  reduc- 
tions will,  of  course,  fall  upon  you  as  before,  seeing 
that  the  farmers,  in  a  different  way,  will  be  paying 
as  much  as  before.     Have  you  left  margin  enough  ?  " 


■ 


ler  further 


MARCELLA. 


fi 


461 


"I  think  so,"  she  said  eagerly.     "I  shall  live  here 
very  simply,  and  accumulate  all  the  reserve  fund  1 
can.     I  have  set  all  my  heart  upon  it.     I  know  there 
are  not  many  people  could  do  such  a  thing— other 
obligations  would,  must,  come  first.     And  it  may  turn 
out  a  mistake.     But  —  Avhatever  happens  —  whatever 
any  of  us,  Socialists  or  not,  may  hope  for   "  •    the 
future  —  here  one  is  with  one's  conscience,  and  one's 
money,  and  these  people,  who  like  oneself  have  but 
the  one  life  ?     In  all  labour,  it  is  the  modern  question, 
isn't  it?—  how  much  of  the  product  of  labour  the 
workman   can   extract   from    the   employer?     About 
here  there   is   no  union  to  act  for  the  hibourers  — 
they  have  practically  no  power.     But  in  the  future,  we 
must  surely  hope  they  will  combine,  that  they  will 
be  stronger  — strong  enough  to  force  a  decent  wage. 
What  ought  to  prevent  my  free  will  anticipating  a 
moment— since  I  can  do  it  — that  we  all  want  to 
see  ?  " 

She  spoke  with  a  strong  feeling ;  but  his  ear  detected 
a  new  note  —  something  deeper  and  wisfcf  uller  than  of 
old. 

"Well  — as  you  say,  you  are  for  experiments  ! "  he 
replied,  not  finding  it  easy  to  produce  his  own  judg- 
ment quickly.  Then,  in  another  tone— "it  was 
always  Hallin's  cry." 

She  glanced  up  at  him,  her  lips  trembling. 

"  I  know.  Do  you  remember  how  he  used  to  say — 
Hhe  big  changes  may  come  — the  big  Collectivist 
changes.  But  neither  you  nor  I  will  see  tliem.  I 
pray  not  to  see  them.  Meanwhile  —  all  still  hangs 
upon,  comes  back  to,  the  individual.     Here  are  you 


462 


MARC  ELL  A. 


with  your  money  and  power ;  there  are  those  men  and 
women  whom  you  can  share  with  — in  new  and 
honourable  ways  —  to-day:  " 

Then  she  checked  herself  suddenly. 
"But  now  I  want  you  to  tell  me— will  you  tell  me? 
—  all  the  objections  you  see.     You  must  often  have 
thought  such  things  over." 

She  was   looking   nervously   straight    before   her. 
She  did  not  see  the  flash  of  half-bitter,  half-tender 
irony  that  crossed  his  face.     Her  tone  of  humility,  of 
appeal,  was  so  strange  to  him,  remembering  the  past. 
"Yes,  very  often,"  he  answered.     "Well,  I  think 
these  are  the  kind  of  arguments  you  will  have  to  meet." 
He  went  through  the  objections  that  any  economist 
would  be  sure  to  weigh  against  a  proposal  of  the  kind, 
as  clearly  as  he  '^ould,  and  at  some  length  —  but  with- 
out zest.     What  affected  Marcella  all  through  was  not 
so  much  the  matter  of  what  he  said,  as  the  manner  of 
it.     It  was  so  characteristic  of  the  two  voices  in  him 
—the  voice  of  the  idealist  checked  and  mocked  always 
by  the  voice  of  the  observer  and   the  student.     A 
year  before,  the  little  harangue  would  have  set  her 
aflame   with  impatience   and  wrath.     Now,   beneath 
the  speaker,  she  felt  and  yearned  towards  the  man. 

Yet,  as  to  the  scheme,  when  all  demurs  were  made, 
she  was  "  of  the  same  opinion  still "  !  His  arguments 
were  not  new  to  her ;  the  inward  eagerness  over-rode 
them. 

"  In  my  own  case  " — he  said  at  last,  the  tone  passing 
instantly  into  reserve  and  shyness,  as  always  happened 
when  he  spoke  of  himself —  "my  own  wages  are  two 
or  three  shillings  higher  than  those  paid  generally  by 


MAIiCELLA. 


468 


tlio  farmers  on  the  estate ;  and  we  have  a  pension  fund 
But  so  far,  I  have  felt  the  risks  of  any  wliolesale  dis 

entiiely  m  my  case,  on  the  individual  life  and  will  to 

that  It  IS  the  farmers  who  would  really  benefit  nuZ 
by  experiments  of  the  kind ' "  ^ 

course    not  at  all  in  love  with  mankind  in  genera] 
but  only  with  those  members  of  mankind  wlfo  cl n  e 

see  Ilir/r  '"'^^"'^'^^^°"-     ''^  --  -charted  to 
see  the  old  self  come  out  again  -  positive,  obstinate 

prophecy,  "you  have  to  think  of  those  /ho  wH  2 

mtr  'rr  ^'"'  '-r  ^•°"  "^^  *<>  """■^-of 

oT;^ ■  ~  Itr  ^"^  P'^OS^  ^™-"  to  the  halving 

Now  he  must  needs  look  at  her  intentlv  out  of 
sheer  nervousness.  The  difficulty  he  had'  hTd  t 
oompellmg  himself  to  make  the  Lech  a  h,"> 

sh^Lt  "''n"  '"""^^^  '""•  ^ti  ffnCtoti:  V.  ■: 

I  aismally  felt  to  be  an  imperative  duty. 
I  do  not  think  I  have  any  need  to  think  of  it      i„ 
n   connection,"  she  said  proudly.    And  ^e    it~; 
si-  began  to  gather  her  papers  together.  ^' 


464 


MAIiCELLA. 


ill 


if; 


I- 


Mj^Bl 


Tlie  spell  was  broken,  the  charm  gone.  Ho  felt 
that  he  was  dismissed. 

With  a  new  formality  and  silence,  she  led  the  way 
into  the  hall,  he  following.  As  they  neared  the 
library  there  was  a  sonnd  of  voices. 

Marcella  opened  the  door  in  surprise,  and  there,  on 
either  side  of  the  tire,  sat  Betty  Macdonald  and  Frank 
Leven. 

"  ThaVs  a  mercy!"  cried  Betty,  run'i'ng  forward  to 
Marcella  and  kissing  her.  "  1  really  d^  't  know  what 
would  have  happened  if  Mr.  Leven  and  I  had  been 
left  alone  any  longer.  As  for  the  Kilkenny  cats,  my 
dear,  don't  mention  them ! " 

The  child  was  flushed  and  agitated,  and  there  was 
an  angry  light  in  her  blue  eyes.  Frank  looked  simply 
lumpish  and  miserable. 

"  Yes,  here  I  am,"  said  Betty,  holding  Marcella,  and 
chattering  as  fast  as  possible.  "*I  made  Miss  Kaeburii 
bring  me  over,  that  i  might  just  catch  a  sight  of  you. 
She  would  walk  home,  and  leave  the  carriage  for  me. 
Isn't  it  like  all  the  topsy-turvy  things  nowadays? 
When  Fm  her  age  I  suppose  1  shall  have  gone  back 
to  dolls.  Please  to  look  at  those  ponies!  —  they're 
pawing  your  gravel  to  bits.  And  as  for  my  watch, 
just  inspect  it!  "  —  She  thrust  it  reproachfully  under 
Marcella's  eyes.  "  You've  been  such  a  time  in  there 
talking,  that  Sir  Frank  and  I  have  had  time  to  quarrel 
for  lite,  and  there  isn't  a  minute  left  for  anything 
rational  Oh !  good-bye,  my  dear,  good-bye.  I  never 
kept  jNIiss  Raeburn  waiting  for  lunch  yet,  did  I, 
Mr.  Aldous?  and  I  mustn't  begin  now.  Come  along, 
Mr.  Aldous!     You'll  have  to  come  home  with   nu!. 


MAnCKLLA, 


466 


I'm  fri-litcned  to  doath  of  tliose  ponies.  You  shan't 
drive,  but  if  tliey  bolt,  I'll  givo  tlunn  to  y<,u  to  pull 
111.  Dear,  dear  Marcelhi,  let  me  come  again  —  soon  — 
directly ! " 

A  few  more  sallies  an.l  kisses,  a  few  more  angry 

ooks  at  Frank  and  appeals  to  Aldous,  who  was  much 

less  responsive  than  usual,  and  the  child  was  seated, 

very  erect  and  rosy,  on  the  driving  seat  of  the  little 

pony-carnage,  with  Aldous  beside  her. 

"  Are  you  coming,  Frank  ?  "  said  Aldous  ;  « there's 
plenty  of  room." 

His  strong  brow  had  a  pucker  of  annoyance.  As 
he  spoke  he.  looked,  not  at  Frank,  but  at  Marcella. 
hhe  was  standing  a  trifle  back,  among  the  shadows 
ot  tJie  doorway,  and  her  attitude  conveyed  to  him  an 
impression  of  proud  aloofness.  A  sigh  that  was 
iialt  pain,  half  resignation,  passed  his  lips  uiicon. 
sciously. 

"Thank  you,  I'll  walk,"  said  Frank,  fiercely. 

"Now,  will  you  please  explain  to  me  why  you  look 
like  that,  and  talk  like  that  ? "  said  Marcella,  with 
cutting  composure,  when  she  was  once  more  in  the 
hbrary,  and  Frank,  crimson  to  the  roots  of  his  hair 
and  saying  incoherent  things,  had  followed  her  there' 

"I  should  think  you  might  guess,"  said  Frank,  in 
reproachful  misery,  as  he  hung  over  the  fire 

"Not  at  all!"  ^nid    Marcella;   '^you  are   rude  to 

>etty,  and  disagr  e.tble  to  me,  by  which  I  suppose 

that  you  are   unhappy.      But   why   should    you    be 

allowed  to  show  your  feelings,   wlieii   other   people 

VOL.   II,  — CO 


466 


MAIWELLA, 


II;. 


Frank  fairly  groaned.  « 

"Well,"  he  said,  making  efforts  at  a  tragic  calm, 
and  looking  for  his  hat,  "you  will,  none  of  you,  bo 
troubled  with  mo  long.  I  shall  go  homo  to-morrow, 
and  take  my  ticket  for  California  the  day  after." 

"You,''  said  Mareella,  "go  to  California!  What 
right  have  you  to  go  to  California?" 

"What  right?"  Frank  stared,  then  he  went  on 
impetuously.  "If  a  girl  torments  a  man,  as  Betty 
has  been  tormenting  jne,  there  is  nothing  for  it,  I 
should  tliink,  but  to  clear  out  of  the  way.  I  am  going 
to  clear  out  of  the  way,  whatever  anybody  says." 

"And  shoot  big  game,  1  suppose — amuse  yourself 
somehow  ?  " 

Frank  hesitated. 

"Well,  a  fellow  can't  do  nothing,"  he  said  help- 
lessly.    "  I  suppose  I  shall  shoot." 

"And  what  right  have  you  to  do  it?  Have  you 
any  more  right  than  a  public  official  would  have  to 
spend  public  money  in  neglecting  his  duties  ?  " 

Frank  stared  at  her. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  he  said  at 
last,  angrily ;  "  give  it  up." 

"It's  quite  simple  what  I  mean.  You  have  inherited 
your  father's  property.  Your  tenants  pay  you  rent, 
that  comes  fror^  their  labour.  Are  you  going  to  make 
no  return  for  your  income,  and  your  house,  and  your 
leisure  ?  " 

"  Ah !  tliat's  your  Socialism  ! "  cried  the  young  fel- 
low, roused  by  her  tone.  "  No  return  ?  Wliy,  they 
have  the  land." 

"If  I  were  a  thorough-going  Socialist,"  said  Marcella, 


UARCELLA. 


467 


to  tho  w,„-l,l  tint  yuH  an,l  y,„„.  ,.M,,  aro  .uo«.  useless 
pan«,te.s  tl.e  sooner  wo  .shall  1„.  rid  of  you.     l!„t  un- 
ioitunato ly  /  an.  not  such  a  g„o,l  .Socialist  as  that      I 
waver  _  t  am  not  sure  of  what  I  wi.,h.    ]!ut  one  thin- 
1  am  sure  of,  that  unless  people  like  you  are  Koi,„.  to 
treat  their  hves  as  a  profession,  to  take  their  eaUin." 
eriously,  there  are  no  n.ore  snperHuons  ,Irones,  „o 
m.m,  Hlle  plun,  erers  than  yon,  in  all  oi .  ilise.l  society ! " 
Was  she  peltu,,  hin,  i„  this  way  that  she  might 
0  get  rul  of  some  of  her  own  inner  smart  and  r^t- 
essness?    If  so,  the  unlucky  Frank  conhl  not  guess 
t.     Ho  could  only  feel  himself  intoh-rably  nX.»\ 

urn  as  to  Ins  duhos,  of  which  he  had  hardly  as  yet 
roubled  hunself  to   think,  being  entirely  tiken  ', 
either  with  his  grievances  or  his  enjoyments 

"I'm  sure  you  know  you're  talking  nonsense,"  he 
aid  sukily,  though  lie  shrank  from  meeting  her  fiery 
look.     "And  If  I  „,„  idle,  there  are  plenty  of  people 
..Her  than  me      people  who  live  on  their  money!  wfth 
no  and  to  bother  about,  and  nothing  t„  do  for  it  S  all." 
On  the  contrary,  it  is  they  who  have  an  excuse, 
ley  have  no  n.atural  opening,  perhaps -no   ,,lain 
'■'"■     Ion  have  both,  and,  as  I  said  before,  you  have 
.."  ruja  to  take  holidays  before  you  have  eanil  them 
Vou  luave  got  to  learn  your  business  first,  and  then  do 
It.    Give  your  eight  hours'  day  like  other  people !    Who 
are  you  tli.at  you  should  have  all  the  cake  of  the  world 
ana  other  people  the  crusts  ?"  '     ' 


|i 


468 


MARCELLA. 


is 
1 


Frank  walked  to  the  window,  and  stood  staring  out, 
with  liis  back  turned  to  her.  Her  words  stung  and 
tingled ;  and  he  was  too  miserable  to  fight. 

"  I  shouldn't  care  whether  it  were  cake  or  crusts," 
he  said  at  last,  in  a  low  voice,  turning  round  to  her, 
"if  only  Betty  would  have  me." 

"  Do  you  think  she  is  any  the  more  likely  to  have 
you,"  said  Marcella,  unrelenting,  "  if  you  behave  as  a 
loafer  and  a  runaway  ?  Don't  you  suppose  that  Betty 
has  good  reasons  for  hesitating  when  she  sees  the  dif- 
ference between  you  —  and  — and  other  people  ?  " 

Frank  looked  at  her  sombrely  —  a  queer  mixture  of 
expressions  on  the  face,  in  which  the  maturer  man 
was  already  to  be  discerned  at  war  with  the  powerful 
young  animal. 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  Lord  Maxwell  ?  '^ 
There  was  a  pause. 

"  You  may  take  what  I  said,"  she  said  at  last,  look- 
ing into  the  fire,  "as  meaning  anybody  who  pays 
honestly  with  work  and  brains  for  what  society  has 
given  him  —  as  far  as  he  can  pay,  at  any  rate." 

"  Now  look  here,"  said  Frank,  coming  dolefully  to 
sit  down  beside  her ;  "  don't  slate  me  any  more.  I'm 
a  bad  lot,  I  know  — well,  an  idle  lot  — I  don't  think  1 
am  a  bad  lot  —  But  it's  no  good  your  preaching  to  me 
while  Betty  's  sticking  pins  into  me  like  this.  Now 
just  let  me  tell  you  how  she's  been  behaving." 

Marcella  succumbed,  and  heard  him.  He  glanced 
at  her  surreptitiously  from  time  to  time,  but  he  could 
make  nothing  of  her.  She  sat  very  quiet  while  he 
described  the  constant  companionship  between  Aldous 
and  Betty,  and  the  evident  designs  of  Miss  Itaeburn. 


MARCELLA. 


469 


Just  as  when  he  made  his  first  confidences  to  her  in 
London,  lie  was  vaguely  conscious  that  he  was  doin-^ 

unhappy  to  restrain  hnnself,  and  he  longed  somehow 
to  make  an  ally  of  her.  t^umtnow 

hei    r/.      't    "''^"^'  impatience -"go  and  ask 
hei,  and  have  done  with  it!     She  might  have  some 
respect  for  you  then.     Ko,  I  won't  ijp  youlbut    f 
you  don't  succeed,  I'll  pity  you-I  ,roLi  y;u    ha 
And  now  you  must  go  away." 

He  went,  feelins  himself  hardly  treated   vet  en„ 
scions  nevertheless  of  a  certain  stirrin.  of  the  norai 
waters  which  had  both  stimnlns  and  bahn"  n  a 

She,  left  behind,  sat  quiet  in  the  old  library  for  a 
few  lonely  nunutes.  T'  -  boy's  plight  made  her  alter! 
n^U^ly  scornful  and  repe...ant  of  he^  sharpness  to  h. 
As  to  his  report,  one  moment  it  plunged  her  in  au 
angmsh  she  dared  not  fathom;  the  next  she U   in 

Airsrir:f.!:::jr:.v^^etsr^n^^^^^^ 

Itself     It  seemed  still  as  though  he  had  stmek  her 
Yet  she  knew  well  that  she  had  nothing  to  forgive. 

Next  morning  she  went  down  to  the  village  mean 
n^  to  satisfy  herself  on  two  or  three  points  1,Z 


the  Recto  1 
Harden  and 


i'y  gardt-n-door,  in  the  liope  of  find 


poi'siiading  her  to 


ing  Af; 


IV 


come  with  her. 


470 


MARCELLA. 


She  had  not  seen  much  of  Mary  since  their  return. 
Still,  she  had  had  time  to  be  painfully  struck  once  or 
twice  with  the  white  and  bloodless  look  of  the  Rector's 
sister,  and  Avith  a  certain  patient  silence  about  her 
which  seemed  to  Marcella  new.  Was  it  the  monotony 
of  the  life?  or  had  both  of  them  been  overworkin<i- 
and  underfeeding  as  usual  ?  The  Eector  had  received 
Marcella  with  his  old  gentle  but  rather  distant  kind- 
ness. Two  years  before  he  had  felt  strongly  about 
many  of  her  proceedings,  and  had  expressed  himself 
frankly  enough,  at  least  to  Mary.  Now  he  had  put 
his  former  disapprovals  out  of  his  mind,  and  was  only 
anxious  to  work  smoothly  with  the  owner  of  Mellor. 
He  had  a  great  respect  for  "  dignities,"  and  she,  as  far 
as  the  village  was  concerned,  was  to  be  his  "  dignity  " 
henceforward.  Moreover,  he  humbly  and  truly  hoped 
that  she  might  be  able  to  enlighten  him  as  to  a  good 
many  modern  conceptions  and  ideas  about  the  poor, 
for  which,  absorbed  as  he  was,  either  in  almsfrivimr  of 
the  traditional  type,  or  spiritual  ministration,  or  sac- 
ramental theory,  he  had  little  time,  and,  if  the  truth 
were  known,  little  affinity. 

In  answer  to  her  knock  Marcella  heard  a  faint 
"Come  in"  from  the  interior  of  the  house.  She 
walked  into  the  dining-room,  and  found  Mary  sitting 
by  the  little  table  in  tears.  There  were  some  let- 
ters before  her,  which  she  pushed  away  as  Marcella 
entered,  but  she  did  not  attempt  to  disguise  her 
agitation. 

"  AVhat  is  it,  dear  ?  Tell  me,"  said  Marcella,  sit- 
ting down  beside  her,  and  kissing  one  of  the  hands 
she  held. 


MAIiCELLA.  471 

And  Mary  told  her.     It  was  the  story  of  her  life 
•- a  snrT)  ,.    ale  of  ordinary  tilings,  sucli  as  wring  the 
quiet  nea    :.  and  train  the  unnoticed  saints  of  this 
world      In  her  first  youth,  when  Charles  Harden  was 
for  a  time  doing  some  divinity  lecturing  in  his  Oxford 
college  Mary  had  gone  up  to  spend  a  year  with  him 
in  lodgings.     Their  Sunday  teas  and  other  small  fes- 
tivities were  frequented  by  her  brother's  friends,  men 
of  like  type  with  himself,  and  most  of  them  either 
clergymen  or  about  to  be  ordained.     Between  one  of 
them,  a  young  fellow  looking  out  for  his  first  curacy, 
and  Mary  an  attachment  had  sprung  up,  which  Maiy 
could  not  even  now  speak  of.     Slie  hurried  over  it 
with  a  trembling  voice,  to  the  tragedy  beyond.     Mr.' 
Shelton  got  ms  curacy,  went  off  to  a  parish  in  the 
Lincolnshire  Fens,  and  there  was  talk  of  their  beino- 
married  in  a  year  or  so.    But  the  exposure  of  a  bitter 
win  er  s  night,  nsked  in  the  struggle  across  one  of  the 
beal..st  flats  o    the  district  to  carry  the  Sacramen 
to  a  dying  parishioner,  had  brought  on  a  peculiar  and 
agonising  form  of  neuralgia.     And  from  {his  pain  so 
iiobly  earned,  had  sprung  -  oh !  mystery  of  human 
fate! -a  morphia-habit,  with  all  that  such  a  habit 
means  for  mmd  and  body.     It  was  discovered  by  the 
poor  fellow's  brotlier,  who  brought  him  up  to  London 
and  tried  to  cure  him.      Meanwhile  he  himself  had 
written  to  Mary  to  give  her  up.    "I  have  no  will  left 
and  am  no  longer  a  man,"  he  wrote  to  her.    "  It  would 
be  an  outrage  on  my  part,  and  a  sin  on  yours,  if  we 
did  not  cancel   our  promise."     Charles,  who  took  a 
hard,  ascefc  view,  held  much  the  same  language,  and 
I^Iary  submitto.],  heart-brok 


cen. 


472 


MAliCELLA. 


:  i 


Then  came  a  gleam  of  hope.  The  brother's  care 
and  affection  prevailed ;  there  were  rumours  of  great 
improvement,  of  a  resumption  of  work.  "Just  two 
years  ago,  when  you  first  came  here,  I  was  beginning 
to  believe  "  —  she  turned  away  her  head  to  hide  the 
rise  of  tears  —  "  that  it  might  still  come  right."  But 
after  some  six  or  eight  months  of  clerical  work  in 
London  fresh  trouble  developed,  lung  mischief  showed 
itself,  and  the  system,  undermined  by  long  and  deep 
depression,  seemeil  to  capitulate  at  once. 

"He  died  last  December,  at  Madeira,"  said  Mary, 
quietly.  "I  saw  him  before  he  left  England.  We 
wrote  to  each  other  almost  to  the  end.  He  was  quite 
at  peace.  This  letter  here  was  from  the  chaplain  at 
:Madeira,  who  was  kind  to  him,  to  ttdl  me  about  his 
grave." 

That  was  all.  It  was  the  sort  of  story  that  some- 
how might  have  been  expected  to  belong  to  Mary 
Harden  —  to  her  round,  plaintive  face,  to  her  narrow, 
refined  experience ;  and  she  told  it  in  away  eminently 
characteristic  of  her  modes  of  thinking,  religious  or 
social,  with  old-fashioned  or  conventional  phrases 
which,  whatever  might  be  the  case  with  other  people, 
had  lost  none  of  their  bloom  or  meaning  for  her. 

Marcella's  face  showed  her  sympathy.  They  talked 
for  half  an  hour,  ami  at  the  end  of  it  Mary  flung  her 
arms  round  her  comijanion's  neck. 

"There!"  she  said,  "now  we  must  not  talk  any 
more  about  it.  I  am  glad  I  told  you.  It  was  a  com- 
fort. And  somehow  — I  don't  mean  to  be  unkind; 
but  I  couldn't  have  told  you  in  the  old  days— it's 
wonderful  how  much   better  I  like  you  now  than  T 


MAItCELLA. 


473 


"sod  to  do,   though   perhaps   wo   don't  a 
b(!tto: 

15oi 

tears. 


bettor."  '      ^         '"    "^   ^^""''   ""^^^^   ^^i^i^ 

150th  laughed,  though  the  eyes  of  both  were  full 


of 


Presently  they  were  in  the  village   to^^ether      A. 

empty  and  to  be  pulled  down,  a  sudden  look  of  dis 
gust  crossed  Marcella's  face. 

said!^''^  ^  ^'"  ^'''''  '"^  ''''"'  ^^  ^^"^^^  ^I^^^'^?"  «lie 

No;    Mary  had  heard  nothing.     So  Marcella  told 
the  grotesque  and  ugly  news,  as  it  seen^ed  to  her 
w    cM.ad  reached  her  at  A^nalfi.     Ji.n  Hurd's  :i^ 

w^'irrl^S^tilTr^ 

,    ,  '    ^^^"^  ^^^^ -t'^'^lwn  name  and  shiftv 

eye  who  lodged  on  the  floor  heneath  her  in     „   S 
Bu.ld.ngs  and  had  been  wont  to  come  in  of  an  ev  „ 
■ng  and  play  comie  songs  to  her  and  the  chil  ,r 
Mareena  was  vel>en,e„tly  sure  that  he  was  a  elurt 
tan -that  he  got  his  living  by  a  number  of  sn.all 

lint  apait  from  the  question  whether  he  won  d  make 
Minta  a  decent  husband,  or  live  upon  her  a,  d  b  ,t 
her,  was  the  faet  itself  of  her  re-n  arriage  n  1^:  f 
hideous  to  the  girl  °  '  '* 

^^;^^..hi,„r.  she  said.     ".larryanyonel    Isn't 

vision  the  ^^.^^"l^,j:^,z:r:2^z 

dwarf  sitting,  handcuifed,        "  '  *'" 


ider  the  eye  of  his  e 


ip- 


474 


MAHCELLA. 


tors;  she  felt  again  the  rush  of  that  whirlwind  of 
agony  through  whieh  she  had  borne  the  wife's  help- 
less seal  in  that  awful  dawn. 

And  \fter  that  —  exit!  —  wit.i  her  "professor  of 
elocution.''  It  made  the  girl  sick  to  think  of.  And 
Mary,  ont  of  a  Puseyite  dislike  of  second  marriage, 
felt  and  expressed  nuich  the  same  repulsion. 

Well  —  ]Minta  Hurd  was  far  away,  and  if  she  had 
been  there  to  defend  herself  her  powers  of  expres- 
sion would  have  been  no  match  for  theirs.  Nor  does 
youth  understand  such  pleas  as  she  might  have  urged. 

"  Will  Lord  Maxwell  continue  the  pension  ?  "  said 
Mary. 

Marcella  stopped  again,  involuntarily. 

"  So  that  was  his  doing  ?  "  she  said.  "  I  supposed 
as  much." 

"  You  did  not  know  ?  "  cried  Mary,  in  distress.  "  Oh ! 
I  believe  I  ought  not  to  have  said  anything  about  it." 

"  I  always  guessed  it,"  said  Marcella,  shortly,  and 
they  walked  on  in  silence. 

Presently  they  found  themselves  in  front  of  Mrs. 
Jellison's  very  trim  and  pleasant  cottage,  which  lay 
farther  along  the  common,  to  the  left  of  the  road  to 
the  Court.  There  was  an  early  pear-tree  in  blossom 
over  the  porch,  and  a  swelling  greenery  of  buds  in  the 
little  garden. 

"  Will  you  come  in  ?  "  said  Mary.  "  I  should  like 
to  see  Isabella  Westall." 

Marcella  started  at  the  name. 

"  How  is  she  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Just  the  same.  She  has  never  been  in  her  right 
mind  since.     But  she  is  quite  harmless  and  quiet." 


'!i. 


MARCELLA. 


476 


r ney  found  Mr.,.  Jollison  on  one  si.le  of  the  fire, 
w,tl>  „.,.  daughter  on  tho  othei-,  and  the  little  six-year! 
ohl  Johnnie  playing  between  them.     Mrs.   Jellison 
was  s  raw-pla,ting,  twisting  the  straws  with  an>azin- 
rapidity,  her  fingers  stained  with  red  from  the  dye 
oi  them     Isabella  was,  as  usual,  doing  nothing,     si.e 
stared  when  Mareella  and  Mary  caine  in,  but  L  took 
no  othoT  notice  of  them.    Her  powerful  and  tragic 
faeehad  the  look  of  something  originally  full  of   n- 
ten  .on,  from  whieh  spirit  and  meaning  had  Ion.- de- 
parted,  leaving  a  line  but  lifeless  outline.    Mareella 
l.ad  seen  it  last  on  the  night  of  the   OKeeution,  t 
ghastly  apparition  at  Minta  Hurf's  window,  when  it 
might  have  teen  eaught  by  some  sculptor  in  quest  of 
the  secrets  o   riolent  expression,  fixed  in  clay  or  mai 
ble,  and  labelled  "  Kevengo,"  or  "  Passion  " 

Its  passionless  emptiness  now  filled  hei  with  pity 
aiKl  horror.     She   sat  down  beside  the  widow  3 
took  her  hand.     Mrs.  Westall  allowe.l  it  for  a  mo 
ment,  then  drew  her  own  away  suddenly,  and  Mar- 
eella saw  a  curious  and  sinister  contraction  of  the 

"Ah!   yo  never  know  how  much  Isabella  unner- 
stans,an    how  much  she  don't,"  Mrs.  Jellison  wis 
saying  to  Mary.     "  I  can't  alius  make  her  out?b  t  X 
don't  give  no  trouble.    An'  as  for  that  boy,  he's  a  cl  r 
mper,  he  is.    He  gives  'em  fine  times  at  s'^Lol,  he  do 
Miss  Barton,  she  ast  him  in  class,  Thursday    'Ct 
Anani^  and  Sappira.    .Johnnie,'  says  she,  -wlLate: 
made  em  do  sich  a  wicked  thing?'    <WelI,  /  <,o-„' 
Know,'  says  he;    'it  was  jus'  th.ir  nassty  good-foi- 


uothink/  says  he  :  '  but 


,11 


* 


til 


ey  was  gi-eat  yillios,'  s; 


lys 


476 


MAIiCELLA. 


if  I 


r 


he.  Oh  !  he  don't  mean  no  harm  !  —  lor'  bless  yer, 
tlie  men  is  all  born  contrary,  and  they  can't  help  them- 
selves. Oh  !  thank  yer,  miss,  my  'ealth  is  pretty  tidy, 
though  I  'ave  been  plagued  this  winter  with  a  some- 
thing they  call  the  'Henzy.  I  wor  very  bad  !  '  Yo  go 
to  bed,  Mrs.  Jellison,'  says  Dr.  Sharpe,  '  or  yo'll  know 
of  it.'  But  I  woru't  goin'  to  be  talked  to  by  'im. 
Why,  I  knowed  'im  when  he  wor  no  'igher  nor  JShnnio. 
An'  I  kep'  puddlin'  along,  an'  one  mornin'  I  wor  fairly 
choked,  an'  I  just  crawled  into  that  parlour,  an'  I  took 
a  sup  o'  brandy  out  o'  the  bottle  "  —  she  looked  com- 
placently at  Mary,  quite  conscious  that  the  Rector's 

sister  must  be  listening  to  her  with  disapproving  ears 

"  an',  lor'  bless  yer,  it  cut  the  phlegm,  it  did,  that  very 
moment.  My !  I  did  cough.  I  drawed  it  up  by  the 
yard,  I  did  — and  I  crep'  back  along  the  wall,  and  yo 
cud  ha'  knocked  me  down  wi'  one  o'  my  own  straws. 
But  I've  been  better  iver  since,  an'  beginnin'  to  eat  my 
vittles,  too,  though  I'm  never  no  great  pecker  —  I  ain't 
—  not  at  no  time." 

Mary  managed  to  smother  her  emotions  on  the 
subject  of  the  brandy,  and  the  old  woman  chattered 
on,  throwing  out  the  news  of  the  village  in  a  series 
of  humorous  fragments,  tinged  in  general  with  the 
lowest  opinion  of  human  nature. 

When  the  girls  took  leave  of  her,  she  said  slily  to 
Marcel  la  : 

"  An'  'ow  about  your  plaitin',  miss  ?  —  though  I 
dessay  I'm  a  bold  'un  for  astin'." 

Marcella  coloured. 

"Well,  I've  got  it  to  think  about,  Mrs.  Jelhson. 
We  must  have  a  meeting  in  the  village  and  talk  it 
over  one  of  these  (hiys." 


MAliCELLA, 


477 


m^  ears  — 


Tlie  oW  woman  nodaed  in  a  shrewd  silence    and 
ivatclied  thorn  dopart.  '       " 

.1 ''  ^^•",":  '■""'"'"  •^'"""y  «<"'S«  ""  liisst  my  time  " 
she  said  .to  liereeU  witii  a  cluiclile. 

If  Mrs.  Jellison  l>ad  this  small  belief  in  the  powers 
of  the  ne,.  m.stress  of  Mellor  over  n.atters  whM    ae 

"theTn*^       ;  ""'  "'"'  ''^""''l  generations  ^go  W 

the  Lord  and  natnr',"  JIarcella  eertainly  was  in  .m 

"mod  to  eontradict  her.     She  walked  th Zh  the 

th  X;™;:  -T^r^-'  everything  alltr- 

"p."bi  s'  tLiT'      '7"°"-'  '■'"""' "'«  ^^"-^ 

theb  ea™  t!  ,  '"'f'  "'''  ""''  ^■°""*''  "-''o  '""eLed 

"I  si n  1  L  f     r?  °'"  "'  ""'y  ""^'-^'l  «'"  «eetory, 

dxt;i!,;'"'  '■"" '""  •'""^  "^-  "^ «- «'- 1  - 

Mary  laughed  at  her,  and  tried  to  cheer  her     But 
Marce  la  was  in  the  depths  of  self-disgust. 

vvaat  IS  wanted,  really  wanterl  "  d,^      • -.      •  , 
intensity,  "is  not  ^.v'help,  b«  ™     tow  1     K    "'*" 
;nake  them  ,al.  for  tLsel^^l^^^^ 
selfislilj  even,  if  they  will   only  tnke       a     7 

Mary  was  scandalised. 

"I  deehare  yon  arc  as  bad  as  Mr.  Craven,"  she  said 
He  told  Charles  yesterday  that  the  curtscvs  nf  t 

<'"°»sh  to  be  their  grandmothers -sickened  him 


m 


478 


MARCELLA. 


if 


I' 


of  tiio  wlioln  place,  and  that  he  shouhl  regard  it  as 
the  chief  ()l)ject  of  his  work  here  to  make  such  thing's 
impossible  in  the  future.  Or  perhaps  you're  still  of 
Mr.  —  Mr.  Wharton's  opinion  —  you'll  be  e;(pecting 
Charles  and  me  to  give  up  charity.  ]>ut  it's  no  good, 
my  dear.  We're  not  *  advanced,'  and  we  never  shall 
be." 

At  the  mention  of  Wharton  Marcella  throw  her 
proud  head  back;  wave  after  wave  of  changing  ex- 
pression passed  over  the  face. 

"  I  often  remember  the  things  Mr.  Wharton  said  in 
this  village,"  she  said  at  last.  "  There  was  life  and 
salt  and  power  in  many  of  them.  It's  not  what  he 
said,  but  what  he  was,  that  one  wants  to  forget." 

They  parted  presently,  and  INIarcella  went  heavily 
home.  The  rising  of  the  spring,  the  breath  of  the 
April  air,  had  never  yet  been  sad  and  oppressive  to 
her  as  they  were  to-day. 


CriAPTEK  VI. 

"Oh I  Miss  Hoyco,  may  I  come  in  ? " 

Mnl*^'*"?  '"'"  '''"  '•™''  ^'""«'  '^  little  by  Frank's 

biie  drew  back  involuntarily. 
;;ls  there  anything -anything  wrong?" 
->o,    he  said  impetuously,  "nn  f     7^„f  t  i.„ 

the  c2t  •'    '  '"'  "'"  "''"''^*  '-'"  «-  ™y  f-m 

And,  indeed,  he  could  hardly  ret  his  breath      w„ 

him  to  'peal        '"■'  '"  '"'"'  ^^"^  ^  ^'^  -««>  *» 

"It's  about  Lord  IMaxwell,"  he  said  nt  In^f  i      i  m 
turnins  his  head  a.ay  fronr  he/ to  1  Lfi^'"";^' 
.lust  had  a  long  .alk  with  him.    Then  he  left  me    he 
no  rdea  I  came  on  here.    But  somethinird;„™ 


had 


Et  1 


480 


MAIWKLLA. 


U\ 


It 


me ;  I  folt  I  must  come,  I  must  tell.  Will  you  prom- 
isH  not  to  be  angry  with  mo  — to  believe  that  Tvo 
thou<,'ht  about  it  —  that  I'm  doing  it  for  the  best?" 

He  lookt'd   tt  her  nervously. 

"If  you  wouldn't  kei>p   me  waiting:  so  long,"  she 
said  faintly,  while  Jier  cheeks  and  lips  grew  white. 

"Weir, — I  was  mad  this  morning!  Betty  hasn't 
spoken  to  mo  since  yesterday.  She's  been  always 
about  with  him,  and  Miss  Kaeburn  let  mo  see  once  or 
twice  last  night  that  she  thought  I  was  in  the  way. 
I  never  slept  a  wink  last  night,  and  1  kept  out  of  their 
sight  all  th>;  morning.  Then,  after  lunch,  I  went  up 
to  him,  and  I  asked  him  to  come  for  a  walk  with  me. 
He  looked  at  me  ratiier  queerly  —  I  suppose  J  was 
pretty  savage.  Then  he  said  he'd  come.  And  off  wo 
went,  ever  so  far  across  the  park.  And  I  let  out.  I 
don't  know  what  I  said ;  I  suppose  I  made  a  beast  of 
myself.  But  anyway,  I  asked  him  to  tell  me  what  ho 
meant,  and  to  tell  me,  if  he  could,  what  Betty  meant. 
I  said  I  knew  I  was  a  cool  hand,  and  he  might  turn 
me  out  of  the  house,  and  refuse  to  have  anything  more 
to  do  with  me  if  he  liked.  But  I  was  going  to  rack 
and  ruin,  and  should  never  be  any  good  till  I  knew 

where  I  stood  —  and  Betty  would  never  be  serious 

and,  in  short,  was  he  in  love  with  her  himself?   for 
any  one  could  see  what  Miss  Kaeburn  was  thinking  of." 

The  boy  gulped  down  something  like  a  sob,  and 
tried  to  give  himself  time  to  be  coherent  again.  Mar- 
cella  sat  like  a  stone. 

"When  he  heard  me  say  that  — 'in  love  v/ith  her 
yourself,'  he  stopped  dead.  I  saw  that  I  h  id  made 
him  angry.    '  What  right  have  you  cr  any  one  else,'  he 


MARCKLL. 


481 


I  you  proiii- 
e  that  I'vo 
lebest?" 

long,"  she 
V  white, 
iftty  hasn't 
3cn  always 
see  once  or 
n  tho  way. 

out  of  tliril" 

I  went  lip 
k  Willi  me. 
lose  i  was 
A^nd  off  wo 
let  out.     I 

a  beast  of 
ne  what  ho 
itty  meant, 
might  turn 
thing  more 
ng  to  rack 
ill  I  knew 

serious  — 
mself?  for 
linking  of." 
I  sob,  and 
ain.     Mar- 

e  with  her 

had  made 

ne  else,'  he 


.™l,  very  short,  .,.  n.k  ■„,.  »,„.|,  a    .„   .j^r    -,.h„„ 

ha.  (ly.     I  t„M  l,„„  rv,.ryb,«ly  talk.,,1  al,o,>t  it -which 
of  course  was  rubbish -,.n,l  at  last  I  sai.l,  •  A.s|<  ,,J. 
1-lv  ;  ask  tho  W„.torl,uu,u,.s,  ask  Miss  Iklyoe-      .y 
■•'11  th.nk  ,t  as  much  a„  r  ,lo.'     ' MUs  Uo„J r  X,.  J^ 
-  A hss  Hoy,.,,  tliiiiks  1   want  to  marry  Hettv  ,\r..,. 
■lonuhir    Th.U  ,>i,,n't  know  what  to's;";!:; 
conrse,  I  know  I'.l  taken  your  nan.o  in  vain,  ,,  „1  ho 
sa   down  on  the  grass  i.si.Io  a  little  strcan,  to.,.  Jt 
1.0  park,  a„,l  ho  ,li,ln't  »|„.ak  to  nu,  for  a  long  tim'-!! 
I  .■ouM  soo  h,„,  throwing  littlo  stouos  into  ti,<.  water 
Ana  at  h,st  he  called  mo.     'Vi'v.nkV   hesaidjand'l 
went  u|,  to  him.     And  then  — "  ' 

The  lad  seemed  to  trenddo  all  over.     He  l,enl  for 
;™;.Und  h.,  his  hand  on  Marcel,a-s  knee,  t^lfng 

"And  then  he  said,  'I  can't  understand  yet,  Krank 
1  ow  you  or  anybody  else  can  have  mistaken  mC  1 ,  end^ 
sh.,,  lor  Betty  Ma^donald.    At  any  rate,  I  know  i  ..et 
l«en  no  mistake  on  her  part.     And  i    you  take    L 
advee,  you'll  go  aud  speak  to  her  like  a  man,     .  h    ,^ 

he.  yet,  that  I  can  tell  you.  As  for  me'-I  ca  ,'t 
descnbe  the.ook  of  his  face,  I  only  know  I  wante  o 
go  aw.ay  _  you  and  I  will  be  friends  for  many  yea, 

InZZZr^r  Z  """'  ^"^'  "..--stanythi..  ■ 
once  tor  all  For  me  there  never  has  been,  and  ther, 
.ever  w,l  be,  but  one  woman  in  the  world -to  love 
And  you  know,'  he  said  after  a  bit,  -or  you  ou-lt  to 
know,  ve.y  well,  who  that  won.an  is.'  ind  uren  he 
goU,„  and  walked  away.    „e  did  not  ask  me  t   1 


i 


i 


u 

1. 


f 


482 


MARC  ELL  A. 


ill 
I.  ■fi 


and  T  felt  I  dared  not  go  after  him.  And  tlien  I  lay 
and  tliought.  I  remembered  being  here  ;  I  thought  of 
what  I  had  said  to  you  —  of  what  I  had  fancied  now 
and  then  about  —  about  you.  I  felt  myself  a  brute  all 
round  ;  for  what  right  had  I  to  come  and  tell  you  what 
lie  told  me  ?  And  yet,  there  it  was  —  I  had  to  come. 
And  if  it  was  no  good  my  coming,  why,  we  needn't 
say  anything  about  it  ever,  need  we  ?  But  —  but  — 
just  look  here.  Miss  Boyce:  if  you — if  you  could 
begin  over  again,  and  make  Aldous  happy,  then  there'd 
be  a  good  many  other  people  happy  too  —  I  can  tell 
you  that." 

He  could  hardly  speak  plainly.  Evidently  there 
was  on  liim  an  overmastering  impulse  of  personal  de- 
votion, gratitude,  remorse,  which  for  the  moment  even 
eclipsed  his  young  passion.  It  was  but  vaguely  ex- 
plained by  anything  he  had  said ;  it  rested  clearly  on 
the  whole  of  his  afternoon's  experience. 

But  neither  could  Marcella  speak,  and  her  pallor 
began  to  alarm  him. 

"  I  say  !  "  he  cried ;  "  you're  not  angry  with  me  ?  " 

She  moved  away  from  him,  and  with  her  shaking 
finger  began  to  cut  the  pages  of  a  book  that  lay  open 
on  the  mantelpiece.  The  little  mechanical  action 
seemed  gradually  to  restore  her  to  self-control. 

"I  don't  think  I  can  talk  about  it,"  she  said  at  last, 
with  an  effort ;  "not  now." 

"Oh!  I  know,"  said  Frank,  in  penitence,  looking 
at  her  black  dress ;  "  you've  been  upset,  and  had  such 
a  lot  of  trouble.     But  I  —  " 

She  laid  her  hand  on  liis  siioulder.  He  thought 
he  had  never  seen  her  so  beautiful,  pale  as  she  was. 


MARCELLA.  ^gg 

'M'm  not  the  leastanm-y      yu  .^j,  ,^^ 
'%•    No.,  a..e,„„  ,„i:;/,„  ;,;;;^'^r  —other 
The  young  fellow  s,,ra„„  „„  ' ',,   , ,. 

ffone  out  calling  .o™ef;i"''™f, '':;;?;'/  T''" 
wmCed  life,  .ill  Betty,  before  t'stn,""'  ""  '^ 
.ht:';- ;r'"«  mtle  gl,ost «,  a  s„,ile  cror,  Mareella'a 

"S^t^^::i^-:i  - -- - -. 

f-  her  and  all  l^^^^^^'Z  Z^^f '!"'''''  *" 
l"m  away,  and  with  a  , W   i  ^'"''''  ""''  '^ent 

departed  ''^'  ''"8"™g  look  at  her  he 

and  tkiui:zriT'"' '"'""' "-  -"-■ 

came  little  sp   n.  '  "3  and     "'T'""  °'  '"^   "'--y 
There  was  an  endle  s  tw^te      ?,°'  '""""  ^''^''^'■^ 
he.-  the  soft  chattt  o  te  Voll"«''^'  ''1   ''""^ 
before,  her  mood  haxl  l>een  at  one  ■'•      ^"   ''°" 

anrt  with  all  those  im^C    am    J:,'' """  '"'  '^""^' 
'vhich  answered  to  it     w!,      I    y'^'^'ngs  in  herself 

"■onderfnl  and  buoy^t  I?  t""""""^  *°  ''^''  "'at  a 
the  sweet  revivals  rft.'  "  *"  '■"'  *''^  ^"^t  stir, 
being.  '  °^  ^''*"^'  -""^  flooding  her  whole 

She  gave  herself  un  to  it  i„  o  t 
with  all  the  loveliest  a^,dl!'  "\ ''^'.'^ee  mterwoven 
(elt-with  her  n  1     ■"""  *'""-'?'^  ''''«  had  ever 

J'  wi  J^aiiin,  with  her  new  grop- 


484 


MARCELLA. 


m 


W' 


'» ' 
i 


I M     4  1 

hi  ' 


ings  after  God.  Just  as  the  light  was  going  she  got 
up  hurriedly  and  went  to  her  writing-table.  She  wrote 
a  little  note,  sat  over  it  a  while,  with  her  face  hidden 
in  her  hands,  then  sealed,  addressed,  and  stamped  it. 
She  went  out  herself  to  the  hall  to  put  it  in  the  letter- 
box. For  the  rest  of  the  evening  she  went  about  in  a 
state  of  dream,  overcome  sometimes  by  rushes  of  joy, 
which  yet  had  in  them  exquisite  elements  of  pain ; 
hungering  for  the  passage  of  the  hours,  for  sleep  that 
might  cancel  some  of  them ;  picturing  the  road  to  the 
Court  and  Widrington,  along  which  the  old  postman 
had  by  now  carried  her  letter  —  the  bands  of  moon- 
light and  shade  lying  across  it,  the  quiet  of  the  bud- 
ding woods,  and  the  spot  on  the  hillside  where  he  had 
spoken  to  her  in  that  glow^ing  October.  It  must  lie  all 
night  in  a  dull  office  —  her  letter  ;  she  was  impatient 
and  sorry  for  it.  And  when  he  got  it,  it  would  tell 
him  nothing,  though  she  thought  it  would  rather 
surprise  him.  It  was  the  merest  formal  request  that 
he  would,  if  he  could,  come  and  see  her  again  the  fol- 
lowing morning  on  business. 

During  the  evening  Mrs.  Boyce  lay  on  the  sofa  and 
read.  It  always  still  gave  the  daughter  a  certain 
shock  of  surprise  when  she  saw  the  slight  form  resting 
in  this  way.  In  words  Mrs.  Boyce  would  allow 
nothing,  and  her  calm  composure  had  been  unbroken 
from  the  moment  of  their  return  home,  though  it  was 
not  yet  two  months  since  her  husband's  death.  In 
these  days  she  read  enormously,  which  again  was  a 
new  trait  —  especially  novels.  She  read  each  through 
rapidly,  laid  it  down  without  a  word  of  comment,  and 
took  up  another.     Once   or  twice,  but   very  rarely. 


MABCELLA. 


486 


Marcella  surprise,!  her  in  absent  meditation,  her  Innd 
covenng  the  page.  From  the  hard,  satiric  Ldgh  „e  3 
of  her  look  on  these  occasions  it  seen,ed  probalfle  th't 
she  was   speculating  on  the   discrepancies   betwee, 

st:;:er'--''"-»^---^'»''/o^»-itr::; 

To-night  Marcella  sat  almost  silent  -  she  was  mak 

itsmotlu^r,  who  was  very  ill -and  Mrs.  lioyce  rea 
But  as   he  clock  approached  ten,  the  tin.e  when  thet 
generally  went  upstaivs,  Marcella  made  a  few  nc  S 
movements,  and  finally  got  up,  took  a  stool  and  sat 
down  beside  the  sofa. 

An  hour  later  Marcella  entered  her  own  room      As 
she  closed  the  door  behind  her  she  gave  an  i,  voLtat 
sob,  put  down  her  light,  and  hurrying  up  tott^tl 
tell  on  her  knees  beside  it  and  wept  lon^     yltXt 
.aother  had  not  been  unkind  to  her.     L  tVom    t 
Mrs  Boyce  had  praised  her- in  few  words,  l^ut  wi  h 
evident  s.ncerity  _  (or  the  courage  that  cou  d  U'     " 
essary,  put  convention  aside;  had  spoken  of  L    "wn 
hef;  had  sard  pleasant  things  of  Lord  Maxwe  1  •  iZ 

™i.ed   hei    the    independence    to    stick    to    them 
Finally,  as  they  got  up  to  go  to  bed,  she  k    .  J 
Marcella  twice  instead  of  once,  and  said .- 

Well,  my  dear,  I  shall  not  be  in  your  wav  to 
morrow  morning;  I  promise  you  that."  ^    ° 

Ihe  speaker's  satisfaction  was  i.lain-  v^t  n„ti  • 
could  have   been  less  maternal.    ''H ^girs  tart" 
^vhen  she  found  herself  alone,  ,vas  very  ^ore,  andlt 


486 


MAIiCELLA. 


ft 

li   ' 

S, 


depression  of  a  past  which  had  been  so  much  of  a 
failure,  so  lacking  in  any  satisfied  emotion  and  the 
sweet  preludes  of  family  affection,  darkened  for  a 
while  even  the  present  and  the  future. 

After  a  time  she  got  up,  and  leaving  her  room,  went 
to  sit  in  a  passage  outside  it.     It  was  the  piece  of 
wide  upper  corridor  leading  to  the  winding  stairs  she 
had  descended  on  the  night  of  the  ball.     It  was  one 
of  the  loneliest  and  oddest  places  in  the  house,  for  it 
communicated   only   with   her   room   and   the    little 
staircase,    which    was    hardly    ever   used.      It    was, 
indeed,  a  small  room    in   itself,  and  was   furnished 
with  a  few  huge  old  chairs  with  moth-eaten  frames 
and  tattered  seats.     A  flowery  paper  of  last-century 
date  sprawled  over  the  walls,  the  carpet  had  many 
holes   in   it,    and    the    shallow,    traceried   Avindows, 
set   almost   flush   in   the  outer  surface  of  the  wall, 
were  curtainless  now,  as  they  had  been  two  years 
before. 

She  drew  one  of  the  old  chairs  to  a  window,  and 
softly  opened  it.  There  was  a  young  moon,  and  many 
stars,  seen  uncertainly  through  the  rush  of  April 
cloud.  Every  now  and  then  a  splash  of  rain  moved 
the  creepers  and  swept  across  the  lawn,  to  be  followed 
by  a  spell  of  growing  and  breathing  silence.  The 
scent  of  hyacinths  and  tulips  mounted  througli  the 
wet  air.  She  could  see  a  long  ghostly  line  of  prim- 
roses, from  which  rose  the  grey  base  of  tlie  Tudor 
front,  checkered  with  a  dim  light  and  shade.  Beyond 
the  garden,  with  its  vague  forms  of  fountain  and  sun- 
dial, the  cedars  stood  watching;  the  little  churcli  slept 
to  her  left. 


mahcella.  4g.^ 

So  face  to  face  with  Nature,  the  old  house  and  th. 
night  she  took  passionate  coun  el  with  herself'     1  ft 
to-n.ght  surely,  she  would  be  no  more  lonl,^^  " 
was  going  for  ever  from  her  own  keepinrto  thnf  ^ 
another.     For  she  nevpr  f,..,     ^u     ^^''""^  **^  ^^^^^  of 

nf  v,^^        1       ,  iJucie  ana  tear  were  gone  out 

look  and  speak  when  the  moment  oame,  because  if 
made  her  sick  and  faint  witli  feeling  ' 

saidZd'tr°",^K"""="'"''  "''^''  ™  ''""bt.  ^vould  be 
wouM  be  the^bvirsotron'V-r^S::  .^7^0 

riTtiLXirr;fte^T^rr-^ 

thinking -and  hi.      Tn\  T  familiar  Avays  of 

^"b      ana  nis.     In  her  early  Mellor  rln.ro  +i 

attacks  upon   them,      ^ow   all   her  standnr^!       ^ 
sniritnaliypfi      qi     i     i  stanaards   were 

a  d  nffff  '^^^  '''"''  *^  ^"°^^  ^^lat  hap,3iness 

and  affection  are  possible  in  three  room.   n,.  I 

-nty-eight  shillings  a  week ;  and  oX o    e  Tld" 

e  knowledge  of  Aldous  -a  man  of  stoical  and  s  n     e 

of  a  , '  7     '  ^'»''«"t'«  tastes,  into  the  nnsitfo„ 

of  a  great  landowner  _  had  shown  her,  iu  the' case  at 


488 


MAItCELLA. 


V 


iA 

I.;  4 

f 


I 

1 

i      '' 

u 

1. 

I 


Ei^  :Lt . 


least  of  one  member  of  the  rich  class,  how  wealth  may 
be  a  true  moral  burden  and  test,  the  source  of  half 
the  difficulties  and  pains  —  of  half  the  nobleness  also 
—  of  a  man's  life.  Not  in  mere  wealth  and  poverty, 
she  thought,  but  in  things  of  quite  another  order — 
tilings  of  social  sympathy  and  relation  —  alterable  at 
every  turn,  even  under  existing  conditions,  by  the 
human  will,  lie  the  real  barriers  that  divide  us  man 
from  man. 

Had  they  ever  really  formed  a  part  of  historical 
time,  those  eight  months  of  their  engagement?  Look- 
ing back  upon  them,  she  saw  herself  moving  about  in 
them  like  a  creature  without  eyes,  worked,  blindfold, 
by  a  crude  inner  mechanism  that  took  no  account 
really  of  impressions  from  without.  Yet  that  pas- 
sionate sympathy  with  the  poor  — that  hatred  of 
oppression?  Even  these  seemed  to  her  to-night  the 
blind,  spasmodic  efforts  of  a  mind  that  all  through 
saw  nothing  —  mistook  its  own  violences  and  self-wills 
for  eternal  right,  and  was  but  traitor  to  what  should 
have  been  its  own  first  loyalties,  in  seeking  to  save 
and  reform. 

Was  true  love  now  to  deliver  her  from  that  sym- 
pathy, to  deaden  in  her  that  hatred?  Her  Avhole  soul 
cried  out  in  denial.  By  daily  life  in  natural  relations 
with  the  poor,  by  a  fruitful  contact  with  fact,  by  the 
clash  of  opinion  in  London,  by  the  influence  of  a 
noble  friendship,  by  the  education  of  awakening  pas- 
sion—wJiat  had  once  been  mere  tawdry  and  violent 
hearsay  had  passed  into  a  true  devotion^  a  true  thirst 
for  social  good.  She  had  ceased  to  take  a  system  cut 
and  dried  from  the  Venturists,  or  any  one  else  j  she  had 


m\ 


us  man 


MARCELLA.  ^gQ 

ceased  to  think  of  whole  chsc!P«  nf  «•   -r     -i 

lous  custom,  as  necessarily,  in  some  decree    divine 

mnTr.'rf''"'    ™'""«'=''^«<'».  progress,  cliange,   tliere 

tuke  i    tl     r;       '""'^  temperaments,  would  think 
alike  ni  the  future,  any  more  than  in  the  mst      x 
would  always  be  for  experiments,  for  ,•   ks  '^'h, 
or.t.cal  temper,  his  larger  brain,  Uuld  of  'tl^.s  ive" 
be  slow  to  enter  upon.     Yet  she  knew  we      70™, 
that  n,  her  hands  they  would  beconae  bearable  am 
even  welcome  to  him.     And  for  Mmself,  she  tl  „u'  ,^' 

shXw  st^rt/ohirsTLr  't'™  *'■-' 

fr>   1.^,.   •      1  -^^  ^^  "^^  merely  seemprl 

to   her  inadequate,  if  not  hypocritienl      ^^  i ! 

TapS^r™  "7!-  'Crnake'irS 
unnappiei!     Kow,  would  not  a  wife's  clnVf  fn,,.f 

onrirrr  '^n"r»-'  "t^ohr;;^" 
unc;:::;!:;;  hi,;''"" "'  "■'  »"•"  -*"->  *»  •^eueve, 

w.tli  mingled  smiles  and  tear 


lands !    She  thought 
a  of  iier  plans  for  this  bit 


490 


MARCELLA. 


m 

m 


i\ 


Mil 


of  earth  that  fate  had  brought  under  her  hand;  she 
pledged  herself  to  every  man,  woman,  and  child  on  it 
so  to  live  her  life  that  each  one  of  theirs  should  be  the 
richer  for  it;  she  set  out,  so  far  as  in  her  lay,  to 
"choose  equality."  And  beyond  Mellor,  in  the  great 
changing  world  of  social  speculation  and  endeavour, 
she  prayed  always  for  the  open  mind,  the  listening 
heart. 

"There  is  one  conclusion,  one  cry,  I  always  come 
back  to  at  last,"  she  remembered  hearing  Hallin  say 
to  a  young  Conserva^-ve  with  whom  he  had  been  hav- 
ing a  long  economic  and  social  argument.     "Never 
resign  yourself /  —  that  seems  to  be  the  main  note  of  it. 
Say,  if  you  will  — believe,  if  you  will,  that  human 
nature,  being  what  it  is,  and  what,  so  far  as  we  can 
see,  it  always  must  be,  the  mc '  ives  which  work  the 
present   social   and   industrial  system  can  never  be 
largely  superseded;  that  property  and  saving  — luck, 
too !  — struggle,   success,   and    failure,   must    go   on. 
That  is  one's  intellectual  conclusion;  and  one  has  a 
right  to  it  — you  and  I  are  at  one  in  it.     But  then  — 
on  the  heels  of  it  comes  the  moral  imperative !     'Hold 
what  you  please  about  systems  and  movements,  and 
light  for  what  you  hold;    only,  as  an  individual  — 
never  say  — never  think! —  thdA,  it  is  in  the  order  of 
things,  in  the  purpose  of  God,  that  one  of  those  little 
ones  — this  Board-School  child,   this   man   honestly 
out  of  work,  this  woman  "  sweated  "  out  of  her  life  — 
should  perish! '     A  contradiction,  or  a  commonplace, 
you  say?    Well  and  good.    The  only  truths  tliat  burn 
themselves  into  the  conscience,  that  work  themselves 
out  through  the  slow  and  manifold  processes  of  the 


MAliCELLA. 


491 


personal  will  into  a  pattern  of  social  improvement 
-e    he  contradictions  and  tl.  commonplace's 7"         ' 
.    ►So  here,  m  the  dark,  alone  with  the  hauntinir  unli ft 
mg  presences  of  -ulmiration,  hope,  Jt^^^ 

^ss.o„ate  effo..t  to  bring  hoLu.  lUtc,:;:! t 
and  joy  to  those  who  had  them  „ot.     But  not  alo  » 
only,  not  alone!    She  had  learnt  some  li  °  of Z^ 
dark  aspects,  the  crushing  complexity  oi  t^e  wo, 11 

n.ake  of  We'her  ^lul^rf.-r  'Z^;^ 
be,ng  was  wrought  to  an  intoxication  of  si*: 
Oh!   let  the  night  go  faster!  faster!  and  briL    t 
step  upon  the  road,  her  cry  of  repentance  "o  hL 


ahZiXJs.™Csi::;;,cr'>."'"-' '  ''^''  - 

>oom,  somewhat  to  his  surprise  '^™""«- 

anf  Z";';::'':/""™'''-     ''••'  ™^  '-^  "'^^  -  -before, 
iiim  paie,   out  there  was  n   Vn/^f  ,^t     •  ^ 

fastened  at  her  throat  whtc't  f       "f,™"™"" 
with  her  face  anrl  \wJ       ",'.'"  *      P'ay  tliey  made 

"I  wanted," '^  ta'  !!™  r  "  '*"'  "*  P'^^^"-- 
sHares  ho;  to  maTa^;  tlfe  ll^^thr  tr^ 
-could  3.U  g.e  me  the  name  of  some  one  iu'S; 


492 


MARCELLA. 


i 


'!,..'f 


ijtrii 


He  was  cousoious  of  some  astonishment. 

"Certainly,"  he  said.  "If  you  would  rather  not 
entrust  it  to  Mr.  French,  I  can  give  you  the  name  of 
the  firm  my  grandfather  and  I  have  always  employed; 
or  I  could  manage  it  for  you  if  you  would  allow  me. 
You  have  quite  decided?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  mechanically, —  "quite.  And  — 
and  I  think  I  could  do  it  myself.  Would  you  mind 
writing  the  address  for  me,  and  will  you  read  v,diat  1 
have  written  tliere?" 

She  pointed  to  the.  little  writing-table  and  the  writ- 
ing nuiterials  upon  it,  then  turned  away  to  the  window. 
He  looked  at  her  an  instant  with  uneasy  amazement. 

He  walked  up  to  the  table,  put  ilown  his  hat  and 
gloves  beside  it,  and  stooped  to  read  v/hat  was  written. 

"  It  was  in  this  room  you  told  me  I  had  done  you  a 
great  lorong.  But  ivrongdoers  may  be  pardoned  some- 
times, if  they  ask  it.  Let  me  know  by  a  sign,  a  look,  if 
1  may  ask  it.  If  not  it  would  be  kind  to  go  away  with- 
out a  ivord." 

She  heard  a  cry.  B".t  she  did  not  look  up.  She 
only  knew  that  he  had  crossed  the  room,  that  his 
arms  were  round  her,  her  head  upon  his  breast. 

"Marcella!  —  wife!  "  was  all  he  said,  and  that  in  a 
voice  so  low,  so  choked,  that  she  could  hardly  hear  it. 

He  held  her  so  for  a  minute  or  more,  she  weeping, 
his  own  eyes  dim  with  tears,  her  cheek  laid  against 
the  stormy  beating  of  his  heart. 

At  last  he  raised  her  face,  so  that  he  could  see  it. 

"So  this  —  this  was  what  you  had  in  your  mind 
towards  me,  while  I  have  been  despairing  —  fighting 
with  myself,  walking  in  darkness.     Oh,  my  darling! 


MARCELLA.  493 

explain  it      How  car  it  bo.     Am  I  real?     Is  this  face 

-     ose    hps    .oal-'-ho    kissed    both,    t.vn.bli„,. 

Oh!  when  a  man  ,s  raised  thus -in  a  moment! 

words!  "■'  '"'  '''"'""  '^  '""  ^"^^^   *^-r«  -re  no 

His  head  sank  on  hers,  and  there  was  silence  a^ain 
while  he  wrestled  witli  himself.  ^ 

At  last  she  looked  up,  smiling 

He  sat  down,  wondering,  and  before  he  could  guess 
b"::™ -'"«*°^°^>'^  '-'•-■'- her  Lt 

"I  am  going  to  tell  you,"  she  said,  "a  hundred 

Inngs  I  never  told  you  before.     You  ak  to  hear  me 

confess;  you  are  to  give  me  penance;  you  are  to  sav 

the  hardest  things  possible  to  me.     If  you  don'    I 

shall  distrust  you."  .you  cion  t  i 

cella -r"!-'  f  .''™,.r'"  *''^°"8'>  ''"^  *»'«•  "Mar- 
h  ms'elf  "  vn"  '""t  ''''  "^'"«  *°  ""  her,  to  rise 
kZ  to  j;"  "''''  '-'^^'"^  "-'  '  should  let  you 

"You  must,"  she  said  steadily;  "well,  if  it  will 
make  you  happier.  I  will  take  a  stool  and's  t  by  yo 
Bu  you  are  there  above  me -I  am  at  your  feet-  t 
«  the  same  chair,  and  you  shall  not  move  "-she 
'S  " Id  t^'^r",™' "  though  atoning  for  her 
-  evlry  wo"'""'  '"  '"""'  -  "  ""  ^  have  said  it  all 

So  she  began  it -her  long  confession,  from  the 


404 


MAlidKLLA, 


i: ! 


1  ft 

n 


oarliost,  (lays.  He  wiiurd  often  —  sho  never  wavered. 
She  ojirried  through  the  sharpest  analysis  of  her  whole 
mind  with  regard  to  liini;  of  her  relations  to  him  and 
Wharton  in  the  old  days;  of  the  disloyalty  and  li-dit- 
ness  with  which  she  had  treated  the  bond,  that  "yet 
she  had  never,  till  .piite  the  end,  thought  seriously 
of  breaking;  of  her  selfish  indirt'erence  to,  even  coii- 
tempt  for,  his  life,  his  interests,  his  ideals;  of  her 
calm  forecasts  of  a  riarried  state  in  which  she  was 
always  to  take  the  lead  and  always  to  be  in  the  right 

—  then  of  the  real  misery  and  struggle  of  the  Hurd 
trial. 

"That  was  my  first  true  experience,"  she  said;  "it 
made  me  wild  and  hard,  but  it  burnt,  it  purified.  I 
began  to  live.  Then  eam(>  tlie  day  when  — when  we 
parted  — the  time  in  hospital  — the  nursing  — the 
evening  on  the  terrace.     I  had  been  thinking  of  you 

—  because  remorse  made  me  think  of  you  — solitude 

—  Mr.  Hallin  —  everything.  I  wanted  you  to  be  kind 
to  me,  to  behave  as  though  you  had  forgotten  every- 
thing, l)ecause  it  would  have  made  me  comfortable 
and  happy;  or  I  thought  it  would.  And  then,  that 
night  you  wouldn't  be  kind,  you  wouldn't  forget  — 
instead,  you  made  me  pay  my  penalty." 

She  stared  at  him  an  instant,  her  dark  brows  drawn 
together,  struggling  to  keep  her  tears  back,  yet  lighten- 
ing from  moment  to  moment  into  a  divine  look  of 
happiness.  He  tried  to  take  possession  of  her,  to 
stop  her,  to  silence  all  this  self-condemnation  on  his 
breast.  But  she  would  not  have  it;  she  held  him 
away  from  her. 

"That  night,  though  I  walked  up  and  down  the 


^rAnCKLLA. 


495 


torr.icc   with    V      'vi,.    l 

«■:«'  tin,.,  ,  i„.„,™  ^,;7;   ,'-      -t hat  n,„.,t,  f,.  the 

'"'■s"n.hh.,  wa.,„'t  it,  „„t  to  \l  Iw,   I  "'"■"  ""•■'"'  »"'l 
K'ft,  r.nly  to  feel  „,„.„  ;,  7'   '"  ''Ppi-eoint..  the 

■■^''  bein,  «o„a  x:'o:  ir,,":;'  'r^r^^  ■*  -« 

Jiiust  — »  ^"^  I'uiJisJied,  because  on,. 

>4''Uh."  tilz  ';z  iffi  -^^ »"-'  -"■  ^ 

'«■■■  in  his  ar,„s   talki,  !*  '''"^•''•-     ""  '«'«! 

Mi'mx  «-l,ioh    ;,I   '      ,  ;     '  P^^"'""^''"ly  "f  the 
tJ-^  '"'-Kings,  ,,•,,.!,,,,  i,r;,,''.;;''»''-n>art   to   hers, 

-id, "hekn™ I  trefirr;;'"""''""'""'''" >>« 

hhe  gave  a  little  sob  of  i«„'       i 
a'vay  from  him  an  instant  ^^'  ""';', '""'"'"*■'  '""•«"»■ 
shoulder.  *"''  "'"-■  '»">  a  liaml  on  his 

■.ewisXng:""''^"'''-"^'""'"™.  that  night 
ca.":;:'"' ^'''^'•"■'"'-™°«on  too  deep  even  f„. 

At^re:ri:rtt-:rtr::;rh:fr'''^ 

words.     If  I  eould  nossiblv  l!  **^'''  ''<'"'  "" 

be  beeanse  yo„  gave  S^:::^  --'  '*  -«Ic. 

"f  their  hearts  ^         P"'"'*  ^8"^"  i"  the  life 

''^^in*  ^the*:!^^^^^^^^  -'  -«>  -"  We 


stole 


496 


MARCELLA. 


"Do  you  suppose,"  he  exclaimed,  "  that  I  yet  under- 
stand in  the  least  how  it  is  that  I  am  here,  in  this 
cliair,  with  you  beside  me?  You  have  told  me  much 
ancient  history!  — but  all  that  truly  concerns  me  this 
morning  lies  in  the  dark.  The  last  time  I  saw  you, 
you  wer(;  standing  at  the  garden-door,  with  a  look 
which  made  me  say  to  myself  that  I  was  the  sanu; 
blunderer  I  had  always  been,  and  had  far  best  keep 
away.  Bridge  me  the  gap,  please,  between  that  hell 
and  this  heaven !  " 

She  held  her  head  high,  and  changed  her  look  of 
softness  for  a  frown. 

"  You  had  spoken  of  'maniage  ! '  "  she  said.  "  Mar- 
riage in  the  abstract,  with  a  big  M.  You  did  it  in 
the  tone  of  my  guardian  giving  ine  away.  Could  I  be 
expected  to  stand  that?  " 

He  laughed.     The  joy  in  the  sound  almost  hurt  her. 

"So  one's  few  virtues  smite  one,"  he  said  as  he 
captured  her  hand  again.  "Will  you  acknowledge 
that  I  played  my  part  well?  I  thought  to  myself,  in 
the  worst  of  tempers,  as  I  drove  away,  that  I  could 
hardly  have  been  more  ofticial.  But  all  this  is 
evasion.  What  I  desire  to  know,  categorically,  is, 
what  made  you  write  that  letter  to  me  last  night, 
after  —  after  the  day  before?" 

She  sat  with  her  chin  on  her  hand,  a  smile  dancing. 

"Whom  did  you  walk  with  yesterday  afternoon?" 
she  said  slowly. 

•He  looked  bewildered. 

"There!"  she  cried,  with  a  sudden  wild  gesture; 
"when  I  have  told  you  it  will  undo  it  all.  Oh!  if 
Frank  had  never  said  a  word  to  me ;  if  I  had  had  no 


i^'et  under- 
re,  ill  this 

me  iniich 
IS  me  this 

saw  you, 
bh  a  loolc 

the  same 
best  keep 

that  hell 

sr  look  of 

[.  "Mar- 
did  it  in 
!ould  I  be 

hurt  her. 
lid  as  he 
nowledge 
uyself,  in 
t  I  could 
1  this  is 
cally,  is, 
st  night, 

dancing, 
srnoon?" 


gesture ; 

Oh!   if 

d  had  no 


MARCELLA.  ^^^ 

excuse,  no  assurance,  notJiino-  fn  ^ 

called  to  you  in  tlie  dT.^  "^    !  ^"  "^°"'  ""^^  i"«t 

be  some  generositv    .  '         ^  '^^'■^'  ^^^^re  would 

you  will  rnriti^rtoT^""^^'^  ^^^^^^^  ^^-' 

of-"  ''^'^^^  *^  b«  "meanly  sure,  instead 

^-|Wttobrac;^^:::;;t^^^^^ 

k5o  it  was  Fi'Tiilr  »  v^^      -1 
ago,  ft.om  »;     i    L  "r  r"^™'"'    '^''™  '"»- 
tl.e  river  in  the  palk      Th       "  '"''  ^'""^  ''"™  ^y 

diking  hand  in  l,ancl    "n  tl !%     ^  T"''  ''"'"«  "'^ 
keepers.      I   preinrert  ,v        .  "*  "*  ^^^  •""'  *'■« 

None  of  them  :S  he  S  '!:"^  ',"  ^'^^  '»  t'-™- 
Frank's  .nentor  I  am  und»e  >""'  "  '"*^"^''  '"•     '^- 

on  my  heart  as  I  was  walkin^g  here""       '    '''  '  ''^'' 

eoat:and"*eJ":t'r tittT"  ','"  "'^^^''V^^^^^  of  his 
Wi.e„  he  opened  2  s w"; h"'  l'''"'^  ''■'""-  o-"- 
and-ink  sketch  of  herself  thTtK  ™"*''"''''  "  P^"" 
ins  by  a  young  artTt  it  "l  ''f™  ""^  ™"'  ^^on- 
bunehoftfavelFer'^Joy    ''"'«  ''  "'^  '''""'■'■  »»d 

She  gazed  at  it  with  a  mixture  of  i        • 
pain.     It  reminded  her  of  Ti  i       ,       '"'PP"'ess  and 
and  set  them  in  reUeftatr      '■"'"  '''"^''  "'""8'"'^. 
'>a<i  given  away  all  ri4t  '  ""'T'"'^-     «"*«'■« 

herself.     I'iteo^sly  chUd  sl7v'™l',  ''"  "«'"  *°  ''^^ 
^fo..  her  hand^ft^'  f I  -*;»Y^--''o 
TOL.  11.-32  '  'o^^  "i"ttdy  asking 


■a 


498 


MARCELLA. 


I 


hi  1  I 
! 


him  for  the  answer  to  her  outpouring  —  the  last  word 
of  it  all.     He  caught  her  whisper. 

"Forgive?"  he  said  to  her,  scorning  her  for  the 
first  and  only  time  in  their  history.  "Does  a  man 
forgive  the  hand  that  sets  him  free,  the  voice  that 
recreates  him?    Choose  some  better  word  —  my  wife !  " 


THE   END. 


e  last  word 


ler  for  the 
oes  a  man 
voice  that 
my  wife ! " 


